


The Bunny Project

by amyeonhaseyo



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Also no smut, Break Up, Contains cursing, Coz I am a child of heaven, Coz I like angst, Drama, Established Relationship, I eat angst, Idk man I really have no idea what I'm doing, Lots of Angst, M/M, Messy Writing, Nah I just really dunno how to write smut, Oh and Krisho Lives, SIKE, Some cuteness maybe later, The Darkest MInds! AU, Will have angst, i breathe angst, one or two canons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2019-09-13 15:24:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16895124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyeonhaseyo/pseuds/amyeonhaseyo
Summary: A collection of Junmyeon one-shots!I wanted something to celebrate the start of my third year as an EXO-L, and this is what I've decided on doing ~I'll try to write at least one per Junmyeon ship (coz this baby is so damn shippable)Will try to post at least one or two a week ;)Chapters so far1-SuTao -mama au (angst)2-KrisHo- canon  (angst)3-SeHo-university au (fluff?)4-SuDo - uni au?? (fluff)5-SuKai - childhood to uni au (slight angst?)6- SuHan - The Darkest Minds au7- SuBaek - canon (fluff)8 - SuLay - breakup fic (angst)9- Xiuho - canon (slight angst, friendship)Coming up10-SuYeol?11-SuChen?12-KrisHo (sequel to 2)





	1. Good Night, Hyung (sutao)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zitao goes to visit his Junma.
> 
> (There's no romance here. Just pain. Sorry.)

He really should put a stop to this.

 

But the familiar hallway, that familiar door beckons him, reels him in and Zitao cannot find it in himself to resist.

 

He opens the door and is greeted by sunlight pouring in from the open window. _I remember closing those…_ he finds himself thinking until he catches himself. _Ah. Right._

 

The lump of blankets on the bed stirs, and a mop of brown hair emerges from the cocoon. Zitao smiles as he sees his hyung’s pouty face, still not quite emerged from dreamland. “Taozi?” Junmyeon calls, voice still thick with sleep.

“Yes Junma, it’s me,” Zitao answers with a smile. 

Junmyeon shifts and the sunlight from the windows hits him. “Who opened my curtains?” he asks with a groan, retreating back into the blessed darkness of his blankets. 

“I did!” Zitao announces with glee as he jumps onto the bed, much to the annoyance of its cocooned resident. 

“Brat,” Junmyeon hisses, but with no real anger laced into it.

Zitao hugs Junmyeon’s figure from behind, blankets and all. The familiar banter is comforting, intoxicating. He’s missed this so much. 

“Junma.”

“What.”

“Nothing.”

He hugs his hyung tighter, not wanting to say anything else and just bask in the moment. But he knows Junmyeon is perceptive. He’d always been. Even when Zitao and the others never told him anything, even when they faked it infront of everyone else, somehow Junmyeon could always tell. _I know everything_ , his eyes would say. But he never pressured them to tell him about it. He was always just waiting, waiting for them to be comfortable and ready enough to share it to him themselves.

Which was what he was doing now.

“I miss you,” Zitao whispers.

At first he thinks Junmyeon didn’t hear, but soon enough the older is shifting from within his blankets. Zitao loosens his grip and lies still as he feels his hyung sit up beside him. A hand comes to caress his hair. “Tao-ya. Why did you dye your hair again? Didn’t you just say you were going to stay with blond until the end of the month?”

Zitao stiffens. “I, uh… changed my mind. I won’t be keeping this, though. I don’t like it that much. I'll probably dye it back to blond tomorrow. ” _Stupid_ , he curses at himself inwardly. 

The older snorts. “I figured.” He pulls on the blankets and moves to cover the younger with it. “What’s this about missing me, though? We saw each other last night, we see each other everyday. Are you worrying about the group again? It’s okay, we’re never going to have to work separately anymore. “He finishes covering them both with the blanket and lies down beside Tao. 

Zitao wastes no time and snuggles close to his hyung, hugging him at the waist and resting his head on his chest. Junmyeon’s arms automatically goes around Tao and holds him close. Junmyeon is still toasty, and Zitao tries to absorb all the warmth he can get. His hyung smells of their old fabric conditioner, like a garden in the summer that has barely been touched by the morning sun. And then there’s the faint smell of vanilla, which Tao knows was from the day before—when Junmyeon and Minseok hyung had tried to bake a cake and failed. 

“It’s not that, is it,” Junmyeon says when he doesn’t get a response. “Are you feeling homesick? “

Tao takes another breath and reaquaints his lungs with the scent. _You smell like home, Hyung_ , he says to himself. _That’s cheesy, isn’t it? But it’s true. So if you say I’m feeling homesick then you must be right…_

Outwardly he says, “I dunno… I just feel lonely… “

He feels the small but strong arms hug him tighter, and a hand pats him on the head. “Aigoo. Our Taozi. It’s okay. I have these kind of days, too. You’re allowed to feel lonely at times without having to explain yourself, okay?”

Zitao tears up at those words, forgetting his promise to himself that he wouldn’t cry this time. 

He’s never been able to keep himself from crying. Especially not in this room. And certainly not with Junmyeon.

“Is it okay if we just stay in today?” he asks, his voice nearly that of a whimper.

“Of course, Tao-ya. Hyung will stay in with you today and we’ll just sleep and eat and maybe watch movies if you’re feeling up to it,” Junmyeon assures him. “But…I’m going to have to leave late in the afternoon. I promised I will meet up with my old friends.”

“No!” Zitao whines. “I don’t want you to go out today, hyung.”

“Zitao, I can’t do that. We’ve had this planned for weeks and—“

“Hyung, please.” Zitao looks up at Junmyeon, and the older must have sensed the desperation in his eyes.

“All right, fine, “ he relents with a sigh. “I’m going to have to call them to cancel, though.”

Junmyeon gives in to him, as he has hundreds of times before. And Zitao should feel guilty. But he doesn’t. Not in this room. 

The older finishes fumbling with his cellphone and lies back down with Tao again. “So what do you want to do first, you spoiled brat?” he asks. “Wanna watch a movie? I finally got that Big Hero thing. How about that one?”

Zitao shakes his head. “I’ve seen that already, Junma.”  _Dozens of times now, actually._ ” Let’s go with Star Wars today.”

“Oh?” Junmyeon teases. “You’re actually going to watch Star Wars with me? Without me begging you to?”

Zitao whines and snuggles deeper into the bed, burying his head under and making Junmyeon laugh. His laugh is just as Zitao remembers it—light and cheery like the trickling of water in a small brook. It makes him smile and tear up at the same time. 

They spend the day in, and Junmyeon stays as promised. With packs of junk food at their feet and the TV blasting the familiar background music, they stay snuggled in bed. They watch way too much Star Wars for Zitao’s liking, but he is beside his favorite hyung so he doesn’t mind. He’s not paying that much attention to the movies, anyway. He steals glances at Junmyeon whenever he can, capturing the older’s gasps of excitement and gleeful smiles at his favorite scenes. “This is a good part, Taozi! Pay attention!” he would say from time to time, giving the boy beside him eager pats on the thigh. And Zitao would try to focus on the movie for his hyung’s sake. But his eyes would always go back. Back to that face full of life, of wonder. Those captivating features he's always admired, those smiles that he never could quite capture correctly in his head. 

“You have to actually watch the movie, Tao-ya,” Junmyeon softly chides as the movie credits start rolling. “Otherwise it’s not called watching movies, you’re just lying on the bed. Why do you keep staring at me, anyway?”

“I told you, Hyung. I miss you.”

“And I told you that doesn’t make sense. You keep staring at me like I’ve been gone for years!”

 _But you have_. The familiar lump in Zitao's throat makes it hard to speak, but he didn't have words to say, anyway. Tears fall from his eyes, unbidden, saying everything his voice had no way of expressing. 

Junmyeon’s eyes widen in shock, but whatever confusion he must have been feeling is brushed away as he hastily takes the younger in his arms. “What is it, Taozi? What is it? Why are you crying? Please tell Hyung. Hyung will make it better.”

“You can’t,” Zitao manages to blurt out between sobs. “You can’t make it better, Hyung.”

“Why not? Please, Tao. Tell me. Maybe I won’t be able to help, but I promise talking about it will make you feel better.”

Zitao laughs. Of course. Talking. That was always Junma’s way of doing things. Nevermind that they were a group of guys who would rather duke it out with each other when they’re upset. Junmyeon actually managed to make them all sit down and talk it out. It was awkward as hell, but no one would deny that it did wonders.

Not this time, however. Not in this room.

“Hyung…” Tao sobs into Junmyeon’s chest, dampening the older’s shirt with his tears. “Hyung, hyung, _hyung_.”

Junmyeon starts stroking Tao’s hair and rocking them side to side, in hopes of making the other feel better. “Shhh. It’s all right, Taozi. Hyung’s here. Shhh…”

“Hyung, please promise me,” Zitao’s voice is tinged with desperation. “If—When I tell you that I hate you… Don’t believe me, okay? Don’t believe me. Because I won’t mean it. And I will never hate you. I can never hate you. Remember that, okay?”

“Okay, Tao-ya, I promise.”

“Don’t forget that, okay? Don’t forget that you promised. Please, hyung!”

Junmyeon hugs him tighter. “I will, my Taozi. And promise me you’ll do the same.”

And the final string holding Tao together breaks.

Because he knows.

He knows.

He knows that Junmyeon had never had it in him to actually hate anyone, let alone Tao.

And Tao was the same, but his mouth. His godforsaken mouth that mindlessly lashes out with spiteful words. Hateful words fueled by his momentary emotions, to be regretted in perpetuity.

 

 

 _“Why can't you just let me make my own decisions? I hate you!”_ he had shouted three years ago. “ _You don’t understand how I feel, so stop pretending like you do!”_

 

And the hurt on Junmyeon’s face as the words registered. How could Zitao forget that? He never will. Nor will he ever try. He deserves to remember it, as a reminder of how despicable he is. 

 

As a reminder of how he’d broken Junmyeon’s heart right before he died.

 

On that day, three years ago. 

 

_When Junmyeon was 24 and Zitao was 22._

 

_When Junmyeon’s hair was brown and Zitao’s was blond._

 

_When Junmyeon had looked at Zitao instead of the road with pleading eyes, asking him to reconsider, to talk to hyung so he could help. One hand gripping the steering wheel, and the other reaching out._

 

_Never noticing the incoming car_

 

_Never hearing the frantic blasts of horn_

 

_And perhaps, as Zitao hopes,_

 

 

_Never feeling the pain of the crash._

 

 

“It was an accident, “ everyone told him. “You couldn’t have done anything about it.”

But Zitao knows that wasn’t true.

And he knows it was his fault.

 

He had killed Junmyeon. His favorite hyung. His only Junma. 

 

But the Junmyeon who is holding him right now does not know any of that. This Junmyeon is alive, and this Junmyeon does not know that four weeks from now, he will drive a car with Zitao and then meet his early demise. This Junmyeon does not know that he does not exist anymore outside of this bedroom. This room whose time Zitao had turned back and frozen, on a rainy day three years ago. Two months after Junmyeon had died and a week after Zitao had first thought of the possibility in his head.

The others knew, of course. And they had all expressed their varying degrees of disapproval. But they all missed their leader as well. And Zitao knew that he wasn’t the only one who comes to this room, to see the face they haven’t seen in years—the brilliant smile and gentle touches and the tinkling sound of laughter. He knows he’s not the only one who misses the tight hugs, the ever-serene voice soothing whatever turmoil they had at the moment.

And it’s sick. 

It’s sick how they all come here, to be with someone who was not supposed to be there anymore, to come to him whenever they need him but never having to offer him the same. They’re all just using this Junmyeon in their own ways. This Junmyeon who is trapped in this time loop, in this room, never aging, never changing. Never knowing better. 

But they do it all, anyway. Because, like Zitao, they are all like lost children. 

 

 

 

Playing with time is tricky. They all had to be careful, dyeing their hair to the color that Junmyeon would recognize. Never bringing anything that was from the future. Always acting like seeing Junmyeon was an everyday kind of thing. Except Zitao, perhaps. But like the other maknaes, he could always act it off as being clingy. As always. 

But careful, they had to be careful.

Because even if he was trapped in a time loop, this Junmyeon was still a part of a timeline. Even if it was a timeline that stops in four weeks. 

Zitao knows this has all to stop someday. Because one day, they will all grow too old for this Junmyeon to not be able to tell the difference. And no amount of makeup will be able to help them when Junmyeon asks them why they look so old.

And when that time comes, Zitao will have to undo this loop, will have to say goodbye. A goodbye that would be permanent this time.

 

Junmyeon starts humming a song to Zitao. 

 

 _Hyung, do you know?_ Zitao thinks to himself as he wills himself to stop crying. _Tomorrow I will be 25. Tomorrow I will officially be older than you._

 

  _Tomorrow you won’t be my hyung anymore._

 

“Tao-ya.”

Zitao stills.

“I don’t know what brought this on, and I don’t know what’s making you so sad, but… I really hope you can tell me about it,” Junmyeon gently pushes the younger away from his chest. He encases Zitao’s face in his delicate hands and uses his thumbs to wipe the younger’s tears away. “It hurts hyung to see you like this, but I’m also thankful that you choose me to be vulnerable with. So trust me more, yeah? Tell me what’s making you miserable, and we’ll try to fix it.”

It’s hypnotizing, really, those brown eyes of his. And Zitao almost tells him then, but catches himself in time. He shakes his head to clear those stupid thoughts away and leans forward so his forehead touches Junmyeon’s chest. 

“Not right now, Hyung,” he murmurs. “Tomorrow, maybe? Yes, tomorrow. I’ll be ready to tell you then…”

Junmyeon gives him another hug, and then lays them both down on the bed. Still hugging Zitao, he runs a hand up and down the younger’s back. And for the millionth time Zitao wonders how he feels so small and Junmyeon feels so much larger like this. 

Tao’s sobs turn into occasional hiccups, until they finally die down. His breathing slows with each stroke on his back, until he’s finally breathing evenly. He falls asleep, and when he wakes, it’s already dark outside. He finds himself still in Junmyeon’s arms, and he gently tries to wiggle out without waking the other.

“You’re okay now?” 

Zitao looks up in surprise and sees Junmyeon smiling at him. 

He nods. “I think so, hyung.”

Junmyeon’s smile widens. “That’s good!”

Zitao sits up. “I’m sorry for crying like that to you, hyung. I know that you have lots of things to do tomorrow, so I’ll leave you alone now, okay?”

“It’s all right with me Taozi, you can sleep here tonight if you want,” Junmyeon offers with a worried frown.

“I’m okay now, Junma. Really.” Zitao stands up from the bed and composes himself before turning back to give his hyung a smile. 

“Promise you’ll tell me tomorrow?”

Zitao’s smile falters.

“Yes, hyung. Tomorrow.”

As he turns his back, Junmyeon tells him, “And could you close those curtains, maybe? I don’t want to get blinded again tomorrow.”

And ZItao gives him the usual snark, to which Junmyeon replies with his usual pout, until Zitao finally “relents” to close the curtains for him.

The curtains closed, Zitao walks back to the bed and tucks a giggly Junmyeon in before walking away.

And as his hand closes on the doorknob, he looks back one last time. His hyung is looking at him as well. 

“Have a good night, Taozi,” he calls out.

“Good night, Junma,” he softly replies.

And he really has to stop doing this.

 _Soon_ , he promises. 

 

But the promises made in that room hold no real weight. 

And just as how inevitable it is that Junmyeon's curtains will resume their open state, how his day will repeat for the thousandth time... Zitao's resolve will break. 

 

Again

 

and again

 

and again. 

 

 

 

 


	2. If I Were A Little Braver (krisho)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yifan daydreams about returning to Korea to see the man he loves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is another angsty fic hahaha i told you ^^  
> but I'm working on the next one (it'll be SuDo) and I promise it's more of fluff

 

It was strange, really, how fast YIfan’s mood could change.

He had just released his latest solo album, he should be happy. And he had been. No, he still was. Just that… something felt missing. Like it always did.

He was happy with the way his life has turned out. Really, he was. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have any regrets.

Everything comes with a price, his mother always told him. Chasing after his dream cost Yifan half his youth. Realizing it cost him his health. Leaving to protect himself cost him his friends. It was all fair, in the end. Right?

He’s healthier now, definitely. And he can now make choices for himself. He can say no without worrying what the consequences will be, he can dare to make bold choices without seeking approval first. This was the kind of life he had always dreamed of, the true realization of his childhood dream. And yet…

He finds himself dreaming of that warm living room. Sweltering, actually. What with all the bodies stuffed in couches and chairs and slumped on the floor, it was no wonder the air conditioning could never keep up. It was loud, too. Even when it was the same room, each corner had a different sound, somehow. There would be sniffles from the ones by the couch, eyes glued to the drama on the television, hums from someone whose eyes were closed listening to some random song on his phone, groans and grunts from two or three playing a game on their laptops, and even snores from someone on the floor.

 _Ahh, what a mess it used to be_ , Yifan thinks as he smiles to himself.

He feels the familiar sense of longing, of nostalgia for those days long gone.

Thinking like this has been his own form of self-torture. Ever since that day four years ago, when it all blew up. When he decided to walk away. With no goodbyes. No explanations. Just him and all his luggage disappearing from the dorms. Like he had never been there in the first place.

He figured he didn’t deserve it. After all, he was leaving. No matter what his friends would have said… what _he_ would have said…Yifan would have hurt them anyway. So why make it more painful?

He knew it was an asshole move, of course. A cowardly one, too. But a coward he was. And ever since, he had never tried to reach out to them. No matter how many missed calls he got. No matter how many messages were left on his voicemail. No matter how many texts were left unread and unanswered. He didn’t deserve them. He didn’t deserve any of them.

He could fight for himself when he’s being wronged, but god forbid that he be as courageous when it comes to saying goodbye.

He couldn’t do it.

Picturing his friends’ faces, _his_ face when he tells them, imagining the tears and the looks of pain and disappointment. He couldn’t. Especially knowing that he would probably stay if _he_ had asked him to…YIfan had run away, letting his lawyer, his goddamn agency do all the talking for him.

 

This was his price to pay. This was his self-inflicted punishment. For leaving his friends. He deserved this.

 

Right…?

 

Still, it never hurt to imagine. He wonders sometimes if he’ll ever have the courage to face them again, to see them again.

What if he booked that flight to Korea he’d been meaning to for years now? And once he lands, he’ll ride a cab towards them. His Korean will be rusty, but he’s been watching everything they’ve been in, everything _he’s_ been in. So he’ll be okay, right?

He’ll walk up to that familiar door… or perhaps not. They’d moved into a new dorm years ago. He wonders absently if he’ll be able to get the exact address from Yixing. They haven’t talked in months, maybe a year now. But he knows Yixing would tell him, if he asked, because he had always been loyal that way.

He’ll probably have to ask for Ju— _his_ number as well. _He_ had never been comfortable with unexpected visits, as Yifan remembered. Social as _he_ was, _he_ had liked his alone time. As _he_ should. _He_ had so little of it, too. Yifan remembered how _he_ was always trying to find an empty room, an empty bathroom, an empty closet, an empty _anything_ just so _he_ could spend some time without eleven other boys intruding on _his_ personal space and screeching like hyenas.

Yifan smiles to himself as he remembered that one time when he couldn’t find _him._ He’d had to search for hours, only to find _him_ asleep in one of the walk-in closets. _He_ had looked so adorable, and only a little pitiful, curled up in the corner with his phone clutched in his small hands, still playing the latest Star Wars movie back then. Which one was it? Yifan couldn’t remember. He makes a mental note to look it up later, maybe it could be a conversation starter when he sees _him_ again…

Once he gets _his_ number and tells _him_ that he’s coming… will he even let Yifan finish talking? _He_ probably won’t recognize Yifan’s number, right? Yifan had kept it, but it’s been years. He uses another phone with another number, but always kept the old one charged _just in_ case. Even as his inbox and voicemails remain the same as they had been since that day four years ago—empty, waiting.

 

But maybe… just maybe, _he_ will talk to Yifan. And maybe _he_ will even let Yifan see him.

 _He_ will probably ask that they meet somewhere secret. Not in the dorms, no. Too many watchful eyes inside and out. _He_ had always been careful about stuff like that. Not for himself, but for EXO—or _his boys_ , as he always called them. Careful, always careful. Mustn’t let the group down, mustn’t do something that would hurt them. Even when _he’d_ agreed to dating Yifan (still to Yifan’s eternal disbelief, because just how exactly could someone as beautiful and perfect as _him_ want to be with Yifan?), _he_ would always ask Yifan, “Where are we going today? Will there be a lot of people there, Fan?”

Yifan’s heart clenches as he remembers _his_ mild voice saying his name like that.

YIfan decides that he’ll save _him_ from all the added stress and arrange for them to meet somewhere indoors. Maybe he can book a room somewhere? But the implications…will _he_ think that Yifan will try something? _He_ wouldn’t, right? _He_ had always been the one who knew Yifan inside out, anyway. Even when Yifan never said anything… somehow, _he_ always knew to cancel plans because Yifan wasn’t feeling well. Or hug Yifan extra tight coz he’s been scolded at practice that day. Or give Yifan a thumbs-up when he finally perfects his parts after practicing in secret for so long. YIfan hardly ever told _him_ anything, but that was because he never felt the need to. Because somehow, _he_ always knew.

 _He_ knew that Yifan’s aloofness was really just a poor expression of his shyness, that his intimidating face hid a timid boy underneath. _He_ knew that Yifan’s harsh words were really just him being honest. _He_ could always tell Yifan’s poor attempts at showing affection for what they were, cooing at Yifan in the process.

Yes, _he_ would know. And _he_ would trust Yifan. Because that was just how _he_ was.

 

What would Yifan bring?

Ah. He would buy him some apples. _He_ had always loved apples. It was the one food that _he_ actually liked and was healthy enough that _he_ could eat as much as _he_ wanted of it. Oh, and maybe some carrots as well? He remembers _him_ going on a show with Yixing before, and the spark of jealousy that followed when Yixing told _him_ he’ll buy a truck full of carrots for _him. His_ fans even call him a bunny, right? And water! _He_ always had to drink water. Not because _he_ was thirsty, but to stay healthy.

Yifan chuckles to himself as he remembers _him_ showing him his diet plans with the most adorable serious face in the world—wrinkled forehead and a pout on his mouth as he whines at YIfan, “But Faaaan, won’t this make my weight go over?”

YIfan sobers, also remembering that _he_ used to forego some meals because he didn’t want to gain too much weight. _He_ had always talked about it like he was trying to stay healthy, but really, he wasn’t. _He_ had always bordered on being too thin for Yifan’s comfort. And Yifan would always try to sneak bites of food into _his_ mouth when _he_ wasn’t paying attention.

No, he won’t just bring apples this time. He’ll buy them chicken, and pizza, and maybe even buy some tteokbokki from that old stand that they always used to go to. He’ll make _him_ eat like there was no tomorrow. This time, he won’t let _him_ talk him out of gorging on food. He’ll stuff _his_ cheeks full of goodies. And this time, Yifan will remember to take a picture.

 _He_ will probably come wearing a thick coat, even if it’s hardly winter. _He_ always got cold so easily. Which had been perfect for Yifan, because he could always keep _him_ warm in his hugs. He loved hugging _him_ , enclosing _his_ tiny body in his, holding _him_ so close he could hear _his_ heartbeat, could feel the gentle warmth from _his_ body, could feel the love in _his_ eyes as _he_ looks up at him and gives him a grateful smile.

Yifan wonders if _he_ will allow a hug. Huh. Probably not. Not as soon as he enters the room, anyway. But maybe…maybe if Yifan waits a little… maybe…

When _he_ takes off _his_ coat, _he_ will probably be wearing another one of his wool sweaters, the ones Baekhyun always teased _him_ for, saying that _he_ dressed like an old man. Yifan remembers _him_ shooting back with a pout ( _he_ really should stop pouting, for the sake of the health of Yifan’s heart), “They’re comfy, okay! I don’t care if I look old, I’ll wear my ratty old sweaters!”

And really, Yifan loved those sweaters, and loved _him_ more for wearing them even when _he_ got teased for it. _He_ had always been good at not giving a fuck about what people said about _his_ fashion choices. Yifan remembers that some of _his_ sweaters really had holes in them, but _he_ reserved those to wear at home (much to Baekhyun’r relief). Yifan had loved poking his fingers through those holes, absently nudging at the soft skin underneath, sometimes even eliciting a giggle when he accidentally pokes a ticklish spot.

YIfan hopes _he’ll_ wear one of those sweaters.

Once they sit down, Yifan will tell _him._ He will give him the apology he never got all those years ago. Because Yifan knew, that he didn’t blame Yifan for leaving. _He_ would never be mad at him for that. But _he_ was definitely hurt by YIfan’s wordless, nonexistent goodbye. And, knowing _him_ , _he_ had probably thought of ridiculous things like _he_ hadn’t been good enough, hadn’t been loved enough.

No. YIfan will brush those ridiculous thoughts away. And he would tell him. He would tell him. He would tell him how much it hurt to leave, how much it hurt to wake up on the morning without _him_. How hopeless the future looked to Yifan back then without his friends, without _him_ at his side. He would tell him that he had stolen one of _his_ sweaters, to hug at night when he got too sad. He would tell him that he was pathetic enough to try and make _his_ scent on it last, and cried when he realized it was gone and he couldn’t go back for another one.

He would tell him how lonely it felt walking around in a house with no voices besides his, eating on a table without having to fight for his food, sleeping in his bed without the loud but comforting snores of eleven other boys. He would tell him about the albums...yes, the albums. He would tell him that he has every single one of them. He would tell him how proud he is of how well they’re doing. He would tell him, too, how he has noticed that _he’s_ been singing more and more lines. Because even if Yifan had always loved _his_ angelic voice, not everyone seemed to appreciate it.

Yifan would tell him, he tried to get tickets to _his_ musicals, he even succeeded once. But he couldn’t go. He would tell him that he’d cried like a baby in his room that night out of frustration. He’d really wanted to go, really. But apparently Korea was off limits at the time, didn’t matter that he would go there incognito. He would tell him that he had spent hours online, for snippets of _his_ performances. And he would tell _him_ how proud he was of _him_ , of how much he loved watching _him_ keep chasing after his dreams, how much he admired _him_ for always trying new things, always going out of _hi_ s comfort zone to keep improving.

But he would dare for a moment… and ask him if _he_ was all right. Because YIfan knew _he_ had always been the type to keep things to himself, bottling things up because _he_ didn’t want to bother anyone with _his_ problems.

Yifan would tell him, he never wanted to leave like that. He would apologize to him over and over. Because _he_ deserved a better goodbye than that. And Yifan would tell him so. He would tell him that he loved _him_ so much he didn’t think he could stand seeing _him_ cry because of him. He would tell him that he’s sorry for being such a pathetic coward who couldn’t face the consequence of his decision on the person that he loved the most.

And he would hold him close, like he should have all those years ago. And everything will be right in the world again.

YIfan chuckles bitterly as a tear rolls down his face. How pathetic was he, really? A grown man crying over his own made-up fantasy.

What if he really did those things? What if he talked to Yixing and asked for _his_ number? What if he talked to _him_ and asked _him_ to meet? What if he really got them that room so he could be with _him_ again—even just for a few stolen moments?

Could he dare to hope that he can make things right even after so long?

He realizes something.

He curses himself as he stands up and digs through his bag for a decade-old phone. He unlocks it with shaking fingers and scrolls down his contact list.

 _He_ kept his old number, too. Somehow, Yifan just knows. Just like how _he_ knows about Yifan, YIfan knows about _him_. Or at least, YIfan should have known.

Should have known that _he_ would never do something as petty as blocking YIfan’s number. Would never reject his call, even if (oh god, please no) _he_ doesn’t love YIfan anymore.

Because _he_ was a stupid person like that. _He_ always forgave people who apologized to him, no matter how heavy their sin had been. “Because they apologized, Yifan,” _he_ would always tell him.

Yifan’s finger hovers over his name. A flash of cowardice blinds him for a second before he pushes it away. No. He will be brave this time.

He presses the call button.

The phone rings once.

Twice.

Thrice.

It gets picked up.

There is only silence on the other line as Yifan finally speaks.

And he says only one word. The one word he has never dared to speak eversince he left, for fear that it would make him cry and smile at the same time. The one word that makes him feel a hundred different things at once, the one word that makes him feel alive.

His favorite word.

“ _Junmyeon.”_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12/22 
> 
> I found a more recent version of this on my laptop and it has a much better beginning than the one I posted so I put it in instead ^^


	3. Worst Wingman Ever (seho)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junmyeon has decided he will get over his one-sided love, with the help of…said one-sided love. Not the best idea, he knew. But he considers it as an ending ritual of sorts. 
> 
> If only Sehun was actually helpful as a wingman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, I know I promised a SuDo but the one I'm writing for them is so messy TT^TT I ended up writing SeHo instead coz I was thankfully visited by a plot bunny hahaha
> 
> I think this needs a lot more work? lmao the plot is in shambles and my storytelling is messy... I will probably edit this someday :D
> 
> Enjoy!

 

 

 

“You _do_ know this is stupid, right?” Jongdae asks Junmyeon for around the 98th time that afternoon.

“Yes, Kim Jongdae, I know it’s stupid.” Junmyeon takes a deep breath and straightens his shoulders resolutely. “That’s why I’m doing it.”

His bestfriend sighs. “Eh. Your funeral, then.” The heat from the hairdryer stops and Junmyeon can’t help but squirm in his seat, impatient. “Keep still,” Jongdae hisses. “I’m still styling your hair and it’s gonna be gorgeous and you’re not allowed to look until it’s perfect.”

Fingers on his scalp and a dozen brushes later and Jongdae is satisfied. “Open your eyes.”

The excitement is taken over by nerves. What if he looks ugly? _Here goes nothing_ , Junmyeon thinks, and opens his eyes.

_“Holy shit.”_

Jongdae bursts into a cackle. “You’re welcome,” he says with a grin.

Junmyeon is still staring at his reflection, touching his cheeks and patting his hair, just in case he was seeing things. He was just boring Junmyeon who for everyone was like an afterthought. But that guy in the mirror… he looks like someone straight out of a painting. His eyes look mysterious, but with a mischievous glint. He looks like someone who can elicit a blush with a simple smirk.

“Is…is that really… me?” he hesitantly asks.

Jongdae only hands him a paper bag as a reply. “Yes, idiot, that is you. How many times have I told you that you can actually be hot if only you’d try? Now go change into these clothes and give your hopeless love a call.”

Junmyeon takes the bag. “Thank you so much Dae, I owe you!” he says as he scrambles onto his feet.

He’d gone to Jongdae that morning, telling him about his plan. His bestfriend had been skeptical, of course. Wasn’t this just another episode of Junmyeon Whining About Sehun? But no. Junmyeon was serious this time. He, straight-laced, studious and horribly introverted Kim Junmyeon, is going to get drunk and get over his pathetic crush on Sehun.

Junmyeon has decided he will get over his one-sided love, with the help of…said one-sided love. Not the best idea, he knew. But he considers it as an ending ritual of sorts. God knows he’s had more than his fair share of heartbreak because of Sehun. He should at least help in finding a new love for Junmyeon. Right?

Nope. Not right. And definitely stupid. But Junmyeon decides he’s going to do it, anyway.

Stupid, of course, was always the magic word for Jongdae. Once he’d seen the determined look on his bestfriend’s eyes, he latched onto Junmyeon. “Hair, glasses, clothes. I love your style, of course, Junnie,” Jongdae had hastily added. “But if you’re going dick-hunting, you’re gonna have to change up your hair, ditch the glasses and burn the sweater vests.”

Junmyeon grips the paper bag resolutely. Tonight, he will push himself into the spotlight. And Sehun will be in the front row.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and dials. “Sehun?” he says as the call gets picked up. “Can we meet?”

 

 

 

It’s cold out, but the glow of the neon signs in the dark and the noise of the cars on the street fill Junmyeon with assurance as he walks. He sees Sehun standing by the pavement, just beside the club entrance. He looks exceptionally good-looking as always, and it’s really unfair that just looking at him from a distance is enough to make Junmyeon’s heart flutter. He’s ready to raise his hand to catch his friend’s attention, but Sehun’s head turns and his eyes land on him.

The stunned look on his face is enough to send waves of giddiness through Junmyeon. “H-Hyung?” he asks tentatively as the other appraoches. “What…?”

Junmyeon flashes him what he hopes to be a confident smile. He’s _way_ out of his comfort zone today, with the alien clothing on him and the absence of the glasses that he can push up whenever he gets flustered. But Sehun does not need to know that. “Sehun!” he says. “Thanks for coming.”

Sehun is still staring. “What…” he whispers as he touches some strands of Junmyeon’s blond hair. “What’s all this?” He lowers his eyes and tries to take in his hyung’s appearance.

“I’m going out to get wasted and hopefully also get laid tonight, and you’re going to help me,” Junmyeon announces.

Sehun promptly chokes on air. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Oh Sehun,” Junmyeon says as he absently fidgets in his bomber jacket. “I’ve decided I’m going to end my tragic unrequited love, and, you know, ‘get out there’ like you always tell me to.”

“Yeah, but I meant like go to perfectly safe and friendly coffee dates or something, not get dead drunk and sleep with strangers!” Sehun says incredulously.

“So what, it will all lead to that anyway!”

Sehun stares at his hyung. What has gotten into Junmyeon? Where has his cute, innocent, painfully timid hyung gone? “Junmyeon, are you sick?” He reaches over and places a palm on his friend’s forehead.

“I’m going,” said hyung says resolutely as he brushes Sehun’s hand away. “With you or without you. But hopefully with,” he adds with considerably less confidence.

Sehun sighs. “Fine,” he gives in. “But only coz you’re my friend and I’m not letting you die of alcohol poisoning.”

 _Friend._ Junmyeon tries not to let the sting show. He swallows his grimace and grins instead. “Perfect. Let’s go!”

 

 

 

 _It’s so loud_ , Junmyeon thinks as he tries to take another gulp of his horribly bitter drink. Sehun had wanted to sit at one of the tables to the sides, but Junmyeon insisted on one near the dancefloor. Which he now sincerely regrets. The throbbing of music in his ears is going to make his head explode soon, he thinks.

“Hi!” a face suddenly invades Junmyeon’s view. The guy’s hair is flaming red, and his grin is equal parts dopey and attractive. “Are you with someone?”

Junmyeon lets out a squeak.

“Easy there, I don’t bite,” the guy says with a laugh. “Unless you want me to,” he adds in a low whisper.

“Oookay there Edward Cullen, move along.” Sehun stretches his arm in between Junmyeon and the guy like a barrier. “He’s with me.”

The guy raises his arms. “Oh sorry man, I didn’t know he was taken.”

The guy walks away, and Junmyeon smack Sehun on the arm. “What’d you do that for? He was cute!”

Sehun rolls his eyes at him. “Are you serious?” he demands. “’I don’t bite unless you want me to’? What kind of pick up line is that? Who knows what else that sicko is into. Stay away from people like him.”

Junmyeon pouts. Sehun was probably right, but still. Junmyeon had never been hit on at a bar before. It felt strangely exhilarating. Huh. Maybe the platinum blond hair and contact lenses really were necessary.

A waitress stops infront of their table and places a drink infront of Junmyeon. “It’s from that man over there,” she announces, pointing to someone a few tables away. The guy raises a hand and gives Junmyeon a small wave. Junmyeon feels himself blushing and hesitantly waves back. His other hand reaches for the drink, but Sehun snatches it away.

“No,” he says simply.

“Oh Sehun, give me that drink,” Junmyeon is smiling but his voice is murderous.

“No.”

He makes a desperate grab for it, cursing his short limbs in the process as Sehun raises the glass way above Junmyeon’s reach. “Give it!” he hisses. His hand hits the younger’s wrist, and the drink spills, soaking them both.

Junmyeon lets out a small cry of surprise as some of the cold liquid trickles down his back. “Sehun, what the hell?” he demands. He snatches napkins form the table and tries to wipe himself dry.

At least the other looked apologetic. “Look, you shouldn’t just take drinks from strangers at bars,” he explains. “Who knows if it’s roofied?”

“The waitress delivered it herself!”

“I don’t care. Always better to be safe than sorry.”

Junmyeon huffs at him. “You are unbelievable! You’ve driven away two people that were actually interested in me. What if one of them was my soulmate?”

Sehun actually laughed. “Oh, come on. You know you don’t actually believe that.”

He was right, but Junmyeon glares at him anyway.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Sehun announces as he stands. “ _Please_ promise you won’t talk to weird people while I’m gone?”

“I’m not a five-year-old.” Junmyeon says hotly. “Just go.”

The younger stands up and walks towards the bathroom, but not without looking back at Junmyeon every couple of steps. Junmyeon rolls his eyes and waves him away. The line for it must have been long, because ten minutes later and Sehun was will nowhere in sight. Bored, Junmyeon gets up and orders some drinks. He should be okay, right? He didn’t really have enough experience with alcohol so he didn’t know if he was a lightweight or not.

Three shots in, and Junmyeon is floating. The throbbing music in his ears is suddenly more welcome now, the blinding lights seemingly dulled to a comforting glow. This wasn’t so bad. He even goes to the dance floor, clumsily trying to sway his woodlike limbs to the music before bumping into someone and stumbling. He gasps and shuts his eyes, preparing for the inevitable fall, but a hand grabs his wrist and pulls him upright.

“Whoa there,” someone shouts over the loud music. Junmyeon looks up to a worried face. He tries to answer, but he finds himself getting lost in the stranger’s hazel brown eyes. _It must be the alcohol_ he thinks as his eyes travel down to the other’s pink lips that soon curve into a smile. “You okay?”

Still quite mute, Junmyeon nods.

“You look out of it, wanna sit down for a bit?”

“Got friend—uh, table there…waiting,” Junmyeon stutters.

The stranger laughs and Junmyeon tries not to swoon at the sight. “So you have a friend who’s waiting at your table for you?” he translates.

Another nod.

“I’m Minho, by the way,” the stranger introduces himself as he pulls Junmyeon out of the dancefloor.

Junmyeon leads them to their abandoned table, which was still devoid of Sehun. Pushing down his uneasiness at talking to a stranger without a friend around, he gives Minho an awkward smile. “I’m Junmyeon,” he says.

“Hello, Junmyeon,” Minho greets and gives another one of _that_ smile.

“H-hey…”

Minho bursts out laughing. “You don’t go to places like this that much, do you.  From the way you look, I never would have guessed.”

A flush travels up Junmyeon’s neck to his face. “Was it that obvious?”

“Hey, don’t worry!” Minho reassures him. “It’s cute. You’re cute. Although,” he pauses. “A couple of minutes ago, I would have used the words _crazy smoking hot_.”

Junmyeon deflates. Of course. Pretty from afar, boring up close. It was always what people said. “So they don’t apply anymore?” he says in a small voice.

“What? No, that’s not what I meant,” Minho says, waving his hands. “What I meant was that before, maybe I would have just kissed you and forgotten about you the next day, but now, I actually want to take you out on dates. Does that make sense?”

Junmyeon looks up in surprise.

“Why does that shock you so much?” Minho says with another laugh. “Have you not been called cute before?”

“I’m—I don’t usually look like this.”

“I’ve guessed that much.” Minho pauses as he fishes a phone out of his pocket. He must have received a message or something, because he soon frowns at the screen.

“Hey, it was nice meeting you but I gotta go,” he tells Junmyeon as he stands up. Junmyeon watches as he grabs a napkin and starts writing on it. “But here’s my number. Call me, okay?” he hands Junmyeon the napkin and walks away with a wink.

Junmyeon grins. “Okay!” he says, visibly relieved. He was just about to think that Minho had lost interest in him.

He looks at the napkin, and the digits scribbled on it makes him giggle. _He’d actually gotten someone’s number!_ He looks around for Sehun. He’s gotten what he’d wanted out of this night, and he was ready to call it quits. Where was Sehun though? Junmyeon was sure he’d been gone for at least half an hour now. Was the line for the bathroom really that long?

He pockets the napkin and stands up. There seem to be more people now, and it’s hard to navigate his way. He mumbles apologies to people he bumps into, and finally makes it out of the herd of bodies. He looks around to see the sign for the bathroom, but instead he sees Sehun leaning against the wall, holding onto some guy.

Kissing.

 

Junmyeon’s stomach drops.

He stands there until Sehun opens his eyes and catches his. His eyes widen with panic and something else Junmyeon could not recognize. He pushes himself away from the guy. “Hyung!” he calls.

But Junmyeon’s feet are already doing the thinking for him. He tries not to let it show on his face that his heart felt like it was ripping into pieces. He takes a step back, and another, until he finally turns around and half runs, half stumbles out of the club.

The air is much colder this time, but he hardly pays it any attention as he furiously blinks his tears away and keeps running.

What had he even hoped to accomplish, anyway? This was all so pointless. Get drunk and get laid? Who was he kidding? It was all just a ploy, a final attempt to get Sehun to see him, to actually _look_ at him and like him back.

Junmyeon knew that Sehun was _way_ out of his league. He was just another nerd, a literature major who spent most of his time at home with his books and hot chocolates. He was tedious, old-fashioned and forgettable—the exact opposite of Sehun.

Oh Sehun, who walked the school hallways without a word and yet captured everyone’s attention. Oh Sehun, with his stoic face but blinding smiles. Oh Sehun, whose velvety voice drew anyone within earshot. It was no wonder that he’s graced the cover of some local fashion magazines. Sehun was charisma in human form, a god in Junmyeon’s eyes. Just being associated with him was a miracle, and Junmyeon should have been satisfied with that.

But who could blame him for falling for Sehun, anyway? If people wanted to blame someone, they should blame Sehun for being so damn hot. Or maybe Jongdae for introducing him to Junmyeon in the first place.

It was supposed to be a one-time thing: Jongdae had come to him a year ago, asking him to help out “a friend” on an essay. Turns out that the friend he needed to help was Oh Sehun.

Junmyeon had thought of running away then, immediately intimidated by Sehun. But an hour into discussing with him, he found that Sehun was actually an adorable doofus. Contrary to his apathetic and posh image, Sehun was bad at expressing himself, was prone to biting the end of his pen when he is thinking, and was horrible at subject-verb agreement.

Nevertheless, the essay was finished on time, and Sehun invited Junmyeon for some coffee the next day as a way of saying thank you. A five-hour coffee date later and the two come out of the café as friends. Hanging out became a regular thing: studying together, sometimes even having movie marathons at Junmyeon and Jongdae’s apartment…but the times Junmyeon loved best were when he and Sehun just spent time together in silence. In those times, he would usually be reading a book, and the other scrolling lazily at his phone. They didn’t talk, nor did they feel the need to. It was just easy, comfortable silence.

Junmyeon doesn’t remember when he started liking his friend in a romantic way. But he remembers when he had realized it. It had been one of their movie marathon nights, and Sehun had fallen asleep on Junmyeon’s shoulder. His sleeping face had been so peaceful-looking. Junmyeon remembered how his hair smelled like freshly-picked apples, and how his soft breathing warmed Junmyeon’s chest. Junmyeon remembered how he’d glance accidentally at Sehun’s lips, and how they seemed to beckon him, urging him for a kiss.

That had been one stressful night.

He tried to figure it out afterwards, to rationalize it. Maybe he was just so love-deprived that he became desperate? But he wasn’t. Maybe it was a temporary thing? But it wasn’t. It got so bad that Junmyeon refused to be in the same room as Sehun for a while, scared that he might give himself away.

The ringing of his phone shakes Junmyeon out of his thoughts. He stops, his breathing jagged and harsh.

“Junmyeon, where the hell are you?” Jongdae’s voice shouts at him as he picks up the call. “Sehun just called me. He says you went out without him and he can’t find you? Says you won’t answer his calls either. What’s going on?”

“It’s never gonna happen, Dae,” Junmyeon sobs into his phone. “He’s never going to like me and I’m pathetic enough to keep hoping.”

“Junmyeon, buddy,” Jongdae sighs. “Look, tell me where you are? I’ll come pick you up.”

“I want to be alone right now.”

“Junnie, wait—“

Junmyeon ends the call and brings his hands to his face. What was he supposed to do now? Going home and enduring Jongdae’s look of pity was not an option.

“Hyung?”

Junmyeon freezes. _Please, no_ he silently prays. _He can’t see me like this_.

“Hyung.” Sehun’s voice is more insistent this time. “Please look at me. Let me explain.”

“You don’t have to explain anything, Sehun,” Junmyeon mumbles from underneath his hands. “You can kiss whoever you want.”

Sehun pauses.

“Then why are you crying?”

Junmyeon breaks. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?” he spits as he raises his head to look Sehun in the eye. “The person I like is kissing somebody else and it _fucking hurts._ It hurts, Sehun. So please, just go.”

The anger melts away as fast as it came, and Junmyeon’s head drops, tears now spilling freely from his eyes. He was tired. He was so, so tired.

“He kissed me,” Sehun mumbles.

“What?”

“ _He_ kissed _me_ hyung,” Sehun says. “I was just talking to him and then he was suddenly kissing me. I was trying to push him away when you saw us.”

Junmyeon looks up.

“I like you, hyung,” Sehun blurts out “I _like_ you. Ever since I got to know you. Maybe even before that. Maybe since I saw you at the library two years ago with stacks of books around you, your legs folded underneath you because the table was too high. Maybe since I kept seeing you after that, like my eyes somehow always knew where you were…”

Junmyeon frowns in confusion. He could not possibly be hearing those words from Sehun right now. Was he that drunk? “Sehun…?” he breathes out, not quite a call but more of a question. _Are you really…? Do you mean it?_

Sehun takes it as an encouragement and steps closer to his hyung. “Why do you think I asked Jongdae, a person I have never talked to before in my life, to ask you to help my with that essay so long ago? I wasn't even failing in that class, hyung. I just wanted to get to know you. I never said anything because you didn’t seem to like me back,” he continues. “Then you tell me that you like someone, and it hurt me hyung. But that was okay, I was all right with just being beside you. And then you suddenly come to me looking so _damn gorgeous_ and ask me to watch as other guys make their move on you? What was I supposed to feel…?”

It feels like a dream. It feels too much like a dream, but Junmyeon brings up his hand anyway and touches Sehun’s cheek. “I like you too,” he whispers. “I’ve liked you for so long but I never thought you’d feel the same way because I thought…”

“You thought…?” Sehun is staring at him now, and he brings up a hand to cover Junmyeon’s, urging him to continue.

“I thought you’d never like someone like me,” Junmyeon breathes out.

“Oh god,” Sehun says, and then he’s kissing Junmyeon, both hands cupping his tear-stained face. “You’re an idiot,” he says as he breaks from the kiss. “How can you even think that? You’re amazing, hyung.” He kisses Junmyeon again. “You’re the kindest person I know.” Another kiss. “You’re the smartest person I know.” Another kiss. “You always look so beautiful, but you glow even more when you tell me about the stories you’ve read, when you laugh at your own lame jokes…”

Junmyeon is melting, and his lungs can’t seem to breathe in enough air. Sehun breaks the kiss just in time, and he looks into Junmyeon’s eyes, searching. “Is this--? Are we…?”

“Yes,” Junmyeon fills in the blanks himself. _“Yes.”_

 

 

 

 

A horror movie whose title Junmyeon didn’t bother to find out is playing on his laptop. Scratch that. A _horror movie that Junmyeon absolutely cannot watch_ is playing on his laptop.

“Hyung,” Sehun whines. “You need to watch the movie. _Psychology Now_ says that couples who watch horror movies together feel closer together!”

“Nooo,” Junmyeon protests as he hides his face deeper into Sehun’s chest. “I don’t care what _Psychology Now_ says, Oh Sehun. They won’t be there when I get nightmares for a month!”

“Junnie!” Jongdae calls from somewhere in the apartment. “I’m doing the laundry and I found something in your pants. It’s got someone’s number on it, where do you want me to put it?”

Junmyeon stiffens. Slowly, he looks up at his boyfriend.

Sehun is not saying anything, but his wordless glare sends a shiver down Junmyeon’s spine.

“Just put it in the trash, Dae!” Junmyeon shouts back.

Sehun smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

 

 

 

 


	4. You've Still Got A Long Way To Go (SuDo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junmyeon is a med student: a whirlpool of crumpled papers, cup ramyun, stacks of books, dried up coffee mugs, tears, mental breakdowns and dirty laundry—and Kyungsoo is the [angel, blessing from the heavens, gift to all humankind] one who makes it all better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the SuDo fic that I promised! I feel like I deviated from my own prompt. LMAOOO  
> I love this au, and I have plans on expanding this one. I have a draft with around 5k words. I will keep working on it little by little but I won’t post it until I’m done with this 12-part project hehehe
> 
> ALSO BELATED HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR PRECIOUS DO KYUNGSOO~ I was gonna post this yesterday but I had to finish my report T.T
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

_I wanna die_ , Junmyeon thinks to himself as he looks over at the stack upon stack of papers on his table. There has to be at least two hundred pages of printouts there, not to mention the five chapters of Guyton he has to study. All in all…around three hundred pages that he has to read before the week ends. And today was Saturday.

Junmyeon groans and collapses on his bed, mentally asking himself for perhaps the four hundred-twenty-seventh time (not that he’s been counting) why he wanted to go to med school in the first place. He’s only on his first year, yet he already feels like he’s been slaving for that MD for decades now.

 _I want to help people in the way that I can_ , Junmyeon remembers his old self saying. But really, all Junmyeon wants to do now is travel back two years in time and give his old self a drop kick. In the balls. That guy is so stupid he should never be allowed the possibility to procreate.

After a week of exams and mind-numbing hours upon hours of lectures, you’d think that he’d be allowed to at least have the weekend to rest, right?

HAHAHA.

Rookie mistake. That was what he’d thought as well, back on his first days as a med student. Turns out, weekdays are the days you cram stuff in your head, and weekends are the days you try and understand everything you’ve stuffed in your head—plus read ahead for the following week, accomplish homeworks, try to sleep for two hours so your brain won’t die, review for scheduled quizzes, and try to squeeze in time for meeting friends and family, all the while trying not to go completely insane.

Ahh, the beauty of med school.

He forces himself to get up. With half-dead feet, he walks to the kitchen, occasionally tiptoeing to avoid the various pieces of trash he’s decorated the apartment with: dried up cups of ramyun, days-old pizza boxes, empty chip bags…he’ll clean those up. Eventually.

The fridge is empty save for his half-finished tub of ice cream. “Ha!” Junmyeon crows. “Sugar.”

Just what he needed. _Now for something salty…_ He rummages through his bare cupboards. He could have sworn he still had one cup ramyun somewhere… “There you are, baby,” he coos at the beautiful plastic cup of instant noodles at the far end of his cupboard. He has to stand on his toes and jump quite a few times to reach his dream—Kyungsoo would have snorted at the sight, but for Junmyeon, there can never be shame when it comes to food.

Kyungsoo. Junmyeon’s grin is wiped off his face as he remembers his boyfriend. His absent boyfriend. His bastard of a boyfriend who decided to work in a school that was an hour’s drive away. He supported Kyungsoo, of course. He’d always told Junmyeon of his desire to work at his hometown. It’s not like he went that far—he was in Gyeonggi-do. But whether he was in Gyeonggi-do or the North Pole did not really make that much of a difference. He was Not Here. Kyungsoo visited him during weekends but still…

A shiver goes down Junmyeon’s spine as he remembers. _Shit._

He scrambles to retrieve his phone from his bedroom and hurriedly goes through his calendar.

✿♥‿♥✿ SOO IS VISITING TODAY~!! his screen shouts at him.

His brain turns PANIC MODE on and Junmyeon frantically looks around at all the mess he’s accumulated for the past week. He could clean up in time, right? He just needs a garbage bag, right? He could just dump everything on the floor in it—including his clothes. He’ll just sort through it afterwards. _It’s all right, Junmyeon, we can do this. All we need is a time machine—fuck, where can I find a time machine—what? No, we need a garbage bag, get it together, Junmyeon!_

But apparently the universe is not on his side today, because someone is knocking on his door and only Kyungsoo ever knocks (not that the people Junmyeon knows are impolite—it’s just that Kyungsoo is the only visitor he gets these days. No, don’t feel sorry for Junmyeon. He is doing just fine, thank you very much).

 _Fight or flight?_ Junmyeon’s brain inquires innocently.

More knocks on the door.

_Fight or flight?_

Kyungsoo must have assumed that Junmyeon wasn’t home, because soon enough Junmyeon hears the horrifying sound of a key being inserted into the doorknob.

 _Fight or flight?_  His brain chants at him. _Fight or flight!_

Footsteps on the hallway.

“Junmyeon?”

_Shit. Flight, flight, flight!_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Kim Jummyeon, I can see your miserable butt sticking out from underneath the bed, just come out already.”

No way, there was _no way_ he could—

“I’ll count to three, and if you’re not out of there by then, I will pull you out by your toes and you can say goodbye to the last shred of dignity you have left.”

A sheepish figure slinks out from underneath the bed and pulls itself into a kneeling position. “Oh, hi there Kyungsoo!” it cheerfully greets. “How are you today?”

The other is unimpressed. “You’re covered in dust,” he says with a flat voice.

“I had a great day as well! What brings you here?”

“Your apartment looks like it’s ready to get engaged with the dumpster outside.”

“It’s sunny outside? That’s lovely!”

Kyungsoo sighs and massages the bridge of his nose. “Junmyeon, _please_ stand up and go take a shower.”

The creature on the floor actually had the audacity to pout. “I’m not even that dirty!” it says indignantly, but it stands up nevertheless.

“I can smell you from here,” Kyungsoo deadpans.

Junmyeon’s eyes suddenly shine with a mischievous glint. Before Kyungsoo could react, the dust creature tackles him. “Dumpster hug!” he exults, trapping his unfortunate boyfriend in his arms.

“Kim Junmyeon, let go of mfff—“

“If I’m smelly, you’re gonna be smelly with me!” Junmyeon announces with glee, yanking Kyungsoo’s head to his chest. His ~~victim~~ boyfriend manages to pull free, but not before Junmyeon has rubbed off more than half of the dust on him.

“Aish, Kim Junmyeon!” Kyungsoo shouts irritably, trying to dust himself off to no avail. “If you didn’t look like you were dead on your feet right now, I swear you’d be in a headlock already.”

Junmyeon coos and hugs him (with no intentions of attacking this time). “I missed you too, Soo-ya~”

The other returns the hug, but only briefly before pulling back. “I’m serious about you smelling, though.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A rather long bath later, Junmyeon comes out of the bathroom to be greeted by a most mouth-watering smell. His nose hangs on to the delicious aroma as he floats his way to the kitchen, oblivious to the fact that his apartment now looked like an actual apartment—no litters on the floor, no leftover food for friendly cockroaches, no dirty socks hanging off chairs…no, those things did not matter right now. What mattered was _that smell_ which to Junmyeon signaled _first actual meal of the week_.

In a much better state of mind now than half an hour ago, he prepares the table for two. Meanwhile, Kyungsoo is yet to acknowledge his presence, attention fully on the pot that he was stirring.

“Soo-ya~” Junmyeon softly whines as he gently hugs Kyungsoo from behind. Kyungsoo was now wearing a black tee and one of Junmyeon’s pajama bottoms. Junmyeon grimaces as he remembers his earlier assault. “Sorry for being crazy a while ago,” he apologizes into Kyungsoo’s neck.

Kyungsoo snorts. “I’m used to it,” he says, but Junmyeon does not need to look at his face to know that his boyfriend was smiling right now.

“Wotcha cooking?”

“Just some _kimchi jiggae_. Thank goodness I did some grocery shopping before coming here.” Kyungsoo puts a lid on the pot and turns off the stove. He turns around and gives Junmyeon a flick on the forehead.

“Ow!”

“You dumbass. Why is your kitchen so empty? I _told_ you to always keep it stocked for when you’re hungry!”

“But I—“ Junmyeon receives another flick before he can defend his case.

“And all you’ve been eating is instant food again! Don’t even try to deny it, Kim Junmyeon,” Kyungsoo warns as Junmyeon opens his mouth to protest. “I just cleaned up most of your crap and I counted ten cups of ramyun. Ten! In a week! Do you even _know_ how much salt those shit contain?”

“1500 milligrams per serving.”

He receives another flick. “Don’t get cheeky with me. If you’re smart enough to know, then you should be smart enough not to eat them!”

“Butcupramyunisyummy,” Junmyeon mumbles, and his boyfriend actually _growls_. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” he hastily apologizes. “It’s just that I hardly have time to eat, nevermind cook. And you know how poisonous my dishes are, Soo-ya. So I just…go for stuff that’s easy to prepare and…yeah.”

Kyungsoo’s glare softens by a fraction. “Go sit down,” he says, and Junmyeon grins because he knew that all was forgiven.

Junmyeon pulls up a chair and holds on to his spoon and chopsticks like a child as he waits for Kyungsoo. His boyfriend bends down to retrieve something from the floor. Junmyeon actually tears up at the sight of the multi-layered lunch box. “Kyungsoo!” he exclaims.

“You didn’t think I’d come without it, did you?” Kyungsoo asks in a suspicious tone. “Do you actually have that little faith in me?” He starts laying the boxes infront of Junmyeon.

“But you had a really tiring week! You even had to help with your class’s field trip yesterday,” Junmyeon debates, his eyes glued to the goodies before him. There was pork belly, grilled eel, kimchi, sausages and egg rolls, and _holy shit is that kimbap???_ “How did you even have enough time to…” his voice trails off as Kyungsoo places a bowl of steaming kimchi jiggae infront of him, and his stomach grumbles impatiently.

“I made time for it,” Kyungsoo says simply. “Now eat.”

And eat, Junmyeon does.

There is nothing graceful about how he gobbles down that piece of chicken, and that sausage…along with some _gim_ …and a spoonful of anchovies…and two gulps of the _jiggae_ followed by a spoonful of rice, but Kyungsoo finds himself grinning despite himself at the adorable sight of his Junmyeon’s bulging cheeks.

“Slow down,” he says with a chuckle. “No one’s going to take your food.”

“bod ish sho goo ay—“ Junmyeon takes a drink of water and swallows. “It’s so good, Soo-ya! This is THE most decent meal I’ve had in _days._ What’d you season this chicken with?” he pops another piece into his mouth. “And the kimbap is great! Did you put lots of ham in it? And why aren’t you eating?”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes affectionately at Junmyeon’s rambling. “Stop trying to talk while speed-eating, you doofus. You might end up choking,” he nags. The other just gives him a cheeky grin and proceeds to inhale more food.

The monster that is Junmyeon’s stomach seems to be placated as he slows down some minutes after.

“So, how’s your week been?” Kyungsoo inquires as Junmyeon nibbles on a slice of apple.

“Oh my god, Kyungsoo you wouldn’t believe it! We had three exams this week! And our professor, Mr. Kang , remember him?” –a nod from Kyungsoo—“ Well he decided to be an upgraded version of his asshole self last Wednesday and gave us a pop quiz. A pop quiz! He doesn’t even teach us _anything!_  And he thinks he has the right? Oh and you remember my classmate Sehun? Well he…”

Kyungsoo rests his chin on one of his hands as he nods along to his boyfriend’s stories, smiling contentedly. But in between, his sharp eyes takes in Junmyeon’s slender figure. _Was he always this thin?_ The way his shirt hung off his shoulders was worrying. And Junmyeon’s face was beautiful as usual, but those dark circles under his eyes…was he getting any sleep at all? Kyungsoo knew that Junmyeon had a lot to do, and that studying medicine was very demanding, but still…

It would be better if he could see Junmyeon everyday, and not just every week. If only he didn’t live so far from him…

An idea starts to form in Kyungsoo’s mind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They are on the couch, hours later, on one of Junmyeon’s study breaks.

“Ah!” Junmyeon suddenly gasps in the middle of the drama they were watching.  “I almost forgot!”

Kyungsoo just watches in confusion as his boyfriend gets up and heads for his bedroom. He returns with a paper bag in his hand, and a bright grin on his face. “Here!” he tells Kyungsoo as he drops the bag on his lap.  Kyungsoo only looks at the bag and then at him questioningly.

“There was this festival for the undergrads a few days ago,” Junmyeon explains. “They set up some booths and one of our professors happened to be absent that day, so I was able to visit some shops.”

Kyungsoo opens the bag and pulls out a box. He sees the familiar label. “So your university had a festival and you decided to buy me… _multivitamins.”_

Junmyeon bursts out laughing. “I’m just messing with you,” he confesses. “Your real present is under those boxes. But be sure to take your vitamins, okay? I gave you a lot last month but your roommate Chanyeol is a vitamin druggie so I know you’re out of them by now.”

“Junmyeon, no matter how addicted Chanyeol is to these vitamins, you gave me enough to last us both a year,” Kyungsoo chides. But there is a telltale gleam of fondness in his eyes as he pulls out box after box of multivitamins from the bag. His digging is finally rewarded as he pulls out the last of the bag’s contents. The package is quite heavy and is covered in brown paper that Kyungsoo tears open.

“No way,” he gasps in awe as he reverently touches the sacred artifact in his hands.

“You’re always talking about wanting the original Japanese versions,” Junmyeon explains. “And also whining about how no one sells those around here. So when I saw that at one of the anime booths, I just _knew_ I had to snatch it from that ahjumma who found it first.”

“You snatched the first five volumes of _Prince of Tennis_ from an ahjumma?” Kyungsoo demands.

“Hey no, it’s fine!” Junmyeon waves his hands in defense. “I bribed her with one of my EXO photocards. And I even treated her to lunch. And ice cream. And one of those fancy fruit drinks with…wait. Okay I _think_ I may have been duped.”

Kyungsoo laughs in disbelief and Junmyeon joins in as he plops himself back on the couch. “I can’t believe I got scammed like that,” he mutters in between giggles. “That nasty fox.”

Their laughter dies down into smiles. Kyungsoo rubs his thumbs on the edges of his present. Ryoma Echizen grins up at him from the cover. He looks at Junmyeon, whose attention was now back to the drama on the tv. The female protagonist on the show makes a blunder, and Junmyeon laughs. The light from the tv screen is making his face glow, but Kyungsoo decides that the smile Junmyeon has is much, much brighter.

“Junmyeon.”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s move in together.”

Junmyeon’s head snaps back to face his boyfriend. “What?”

“I said, let’s move in together.”

“But your work…”

“There’s an opening at a school near here, and I’ve been thinking of applying there,” Kyungsoo answers easily.

“But you were always talking about working for the school in your hometown!”

“Yes, and I have done that for a year.” Kyungsoo takes Junmyeon’s hands in his. “I think that that’s more than enough.”

“But… but  I’m so messy,” Junmyeon offers weakly.

“I know.”

“And I’ll be studying a lot so I probably won’t have much time for you.”

“I know.”

“And sometimes I might cry for no reason.”

“Sometimes? You cry _a lot_ for no reason,” Kyungsoo corrects. “But that’s fine, too. Junmyeon, why are you saying these things like they’re new information? In case you forgot, we were actually roommates back in undergrad before I got my job. And I’m your boyfriend. I know what I signed up for two years ago and I still know it now.”

“Because it’ll be different,” Junmyeon protests. “I wasn’t a stressed out wreck of a human back then. You’ll see me _all the time_ and you’ll be exposed 24/7 to my whining and neediness and crankiness and what if… What if you get sick of me?”

Kyungsoo feels his heart tighten at how small Junmyeon’s voice sounded. He sighs and pulls him closer to his chest. “You idiot,” he starts. “I don’t love you despite your faults, Junmyeon. I love you _because_ of them. Because they’re a part of who you are. And will you stop thinking so little of yourself? If I live with you, I get perks too. You give the best massages, you make amazing hot chocolates, you give the warmest hugs, and somehow you’re much better than I am at designing fun lesson plans.”

Junmyeon’s lips start to tug upwards. “What about my kisses though?”

Kyungsoo snorts. “Nope, not gonna give you that one. I’m the better kisser in this relationship.”

Junmyeon lets out an indignant squawk and his boyfriend laughs despite himself. “I’m serious though,” Kyungsoo says to him. “I have really high standards when it comes to people I decide to love, I wouldn’t fall for anyone short of amazing.”

It was one of the biggest compliments Junmyeon had ever gotten from his boyfriend—he could recognize it for what it was, no matter how Kyungsoo disguised it with his tsundere words.

Kyungsoo had probably realized the gravity of what he said, as his ears start reddening. Junmyeon battles the urge to cackle at the adorable sight. He knew that if he laughed now, all his efforts for Operation: Make Doh Kyungsoo A Softie will be in vain. 

Instead, he smiles. “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay, let’s move in together.”

 

And Junmyeon’s still a mess. And his books and printouts and notes and reports are still waiting for him on his desk and he still feels like dying from all the stress, but right now—right here, with Kyungsoo beside him and the promise of a companion, a constant supplier of warm food and hugs and cuddles and kisses and laughter…

 

He thinks he’ll be just fine.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Please be nice to med students. We need all the support we can get hahaha oh and also be nice to doctors and nurses and all health workers. Ya know what just be nice to everybody in general （＾ｖ＾）
> 
> 2.No, I haven't watched Prince of Tennis lmao but i AM an anime otaku. I'll probably watch it someday kukuku


	5. Maybe Someday, To You (SuKai)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junmyeon sits on the old bench. It’s too windy and cold out to be sitting here, and people passing by are giving him looks of confusion. He looks so out of place. Perhaps to them he was lost, but he wasn’t lost. Underneath this tree, he would never be lost. Because this was their tree. And no matter how much time went by, this would always be their tree. And under this tree they would always find each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is a mess, as usual. I hope it’s still okay hahaha I was planning on writing something fluffy for SuKai. But this plot bunny wouldn’t’ let me go TT^TT I listened to EXO’s Stay and Wait on repeat while I was writing this. I guess this story is a combination of the feelings from both songs? 
> 
> I’m trying to get better at writing with less words, but portraying just the same amount of emotion. So if the writing is awkward, it’s most probably because of that lmao it’s ironic though, coz this is the longest of my one-shots so far xD
> 
> Also, belated happy birthday to my precious Nini-bear! I hope you’re having fun :D

 

December 1999

 

The harsh wind bites at Junmyeon’s cheeks as he forces his small feet to walk through the crowd. His right boot gives a miserable squelch as more and more snow makes its way inside it. His left boot stays dry, for some reason, but it gives him little comfort.

He tries looking for his parents again, but there are only strangers around. They all seem like giants to him. They towered over him, bumped into him with their thick padded coats and ignored him as they all went about their own way—they were all preventing him from seeing his Eomma and Appa. _Were they looking for him? They didn’t leave him, did they? What if they did…? He was being insistent on ice skating…_

Junmyeon swallows the sob that makes its way up his throat. He must not cry, he was a big boy now. Eomma said big boys mustn’t cry.

He trudges on. He makes his way back to the tree near the lake where he’d last been with his parents, before a boisterous crowd of students separated him from them. It’s much less crowded now. As he walked towards it, Junmyeon saw a lone boy standing underneath it.

He looked about Junmyeon’s age. It was evident that the boy was crying. He was trying to hide it, but fat tears would make their way out of his eyes from time to time—tears that he would brush off with a stubborn hand as his eyes swept the grounds with poorly masked anxiety.

“Hello,” Junmyeon softly greets. “Are you lost too?”

The boy’s eyes snap towards him in surprise, and they change from shock to relief. His lower lip trembles as he nods, and new tears fall down his round cheeks. “I can’t find my Appa,” he whimpers.

“My Eomma and Appa are gone, too,” Junmyeon confesses with a small sob of his own.

And both burst out crying, but not as hard as they would have alone. They find that they were not so scared anymore, not when they at least had a companion.

Junmyeon recovers first. “I’m Junmyeon,” he says as he wipes the last of his tears on his jacket sleeve.

“Jongin,” the boy replies. “How old are you? I’m six years old.”

“Me too!” Junmyeon says excitedly. “Let’s be friends.”

Jongin nods earnestly and holds out his hand. Junmyeon takes the outstretched hand, mentally grinning to himself because his hands were bigger.

“Jummyeon, do you like chocolate?” Jongin asks as he digs through his pockets. “Appa bought me lots.”

“It’s Junmyeon,” Junmyeon corrects him as he gratefully holds out his hand for a sweet treat. “Not Jummyeon.”

“Jummyeon.”

_“Jun. Myeon.”_

“Jummyeon.”

“Yah!” Junmyeon laughs. “It’s okay, I guess you can call me Jummyeon.”

Jongin chews for a while, thinking. “Ah!” he exclaims. “I’ll call you Myeonnie.”

Junmyeon giggles at the nickname. “I like it.”

“Jongin!”

Both boys turn at the sound, and they see a man jogging towards them.

“Appa!” Jongin shouts. He races towards his father and all but tackles his legs. He bursts out crying, and the man ruffles Jongin’s head sheepishly before lifting him up and letting the child cry on his shoulder.

 Jongin suddenly goes _Ah!_ And he extricates himself from his father’s arms and jumps to the ground. "Appa, this is my friend Myeonnie!" he announces as he stands next to Junmyeon. "He’s six, just like me!”

“Hello, Myeonnie,” Jongin’s father smiles down at him. It reminds Junmyeon of his own Appa, and his eyes start watering. The man’s eyes widen in alarm. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt somewhere?”

“Appa, Myeonnie’s Eomma and Appa are lost,” Jongin explains. “Just like you were lost. Myeonnie found me so I wasn’t scared. So we can’t leave Myeonnie okay?”

“All right, Jongin. We’ll stay with Myeonnie.”

Jongin puts an arm around Junmyeon’s shoulders and starts patting the boy on the head, murmuring words of comfort. Junmyeon’s parents fortunately come by a few minutes later, and they both smother the child in a hug filled with relief.

“Myeonnie!” Jongin calls to him as he was walking away with his father. “Let’s play here together! Appa and I will be here again next week!”

“Okay!” Junmyeon shouts back. “See you, Jongin!”

 

 

 

 

January 2000

Despite protests from his parents, Junmyeon insists on going back to the park the following week.

 “But I promised Jongin,” he argues. “And if I don’t go, I won’t see him again. Appa~” he starts whining.

His father sighs and nods at Junmyeon’s mother. “I’ll take him.”

Hardly able to contain his excitement, Junmyeon starts running, until his father grabs his wrist and sternly reminds him about boys who slip on ice. Junmyeon sobers, but his face lights up as the familiar tree comes into view and he sees his friend.

“Jongin!” he shouts excitedly and runs, much to the exasperation of his father.

“Myeonnie!” his friend cries with just as much excitement.

The boys spend the day throwing snowballs at each other while their fathers chatted. They even tried making a snowman, but their hands were too small for a big one. They settle for making small snowmen underneath the peach blossom tree, and it soon became a race to see which of them could make more. Junmeyon was faster, but Jongin was better at making them—his snowmen had perfectly round bodies and even faces carved out with his small fingers.

“Myeonnie,” Jongin speaks up.

“Mm?”

“What is your favorite? I think my favorite is winter.”

 “I dunno. I like summer, but winter is also good.”

“But there are no snowmen in summer’” Jongin pouts.

Junmyeon pauses and smiles at the snowball in his hand. “You’re right. I think winter is my favorite now, too.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

April 2000

“You’re rich,” Junmyeon gasps in awe as he looks up at the colossal building before him. “You’re like, one of those _meeleeners_ on tv.”

Jongin smiles proudly. “Eomma bought this all by herself! She told Appa to live here with me.”

“Your Eomma is not here?”

“Nope, she’s in Seoul.” Jongin says simply as he grabs Junmyeon’s wrist. “Come on! Let’s go inside, it’s big and nice and cool and there are thousand millions of rooms!”

Junmyeon was not sure what “thousand millions” meant, but he lets himself get pulled along, and the day is filled with exploring strange rooms, and cookies in between.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

July 2003

Junmyeon tries to use his hands to fan himself. The sweltering weather is making his head swim. He’s sitting on a bench underneath the peach tree. Someone had installed it sometime ago, and Junmyeon liked how it was perfectly under the shade of the tree.

“What took you so long?” Junmyeon demands as he sees Jongin jogging towards him. “It’s so hot out, I sweated so much waiting for you!”

“Aw, come on, you know how my dad is,” Jongin placates. “He said I had to finish all my homework before going out to play.”

He glares at his friend’s dopey grin until an idea pops in his head. “You’re buying us ice cream this time.”

“Hey, no fair! I paid last time!”

“That’s what you get for being late,” says Junmyeon, sticking out his tongue.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

December 2005

Jongin’s face is furrowed. “It sucks that I can’t spend Christmas here,” he says as he halfheartedly kicks on the snow.

Junmyeon simply nods in agreement. He didn’t like not having his bestfriend around either.

“I didn’t even want to go. But Appa said Eomma will be lonely if I don’t go.” Jongin kicks another pile of snow. “I don’t believe him. Eomma doesn’t get lonely. She’s always working. She won’t even notice I’m there.”

“Why don’t you get here a present?” Junmyeon suggests. “And maybe ask her to skip work for you.”

Jongin shakes his head.  “No. I don’t want…” he stops walking, making Junmyeon halt as well. He looks back at his friend. Jongin’s head was down, and his hands were curled into fists at his sides.

“I… I don’t like Eomma,” he confesses in a whisper. “Eomma is scary.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

August 2007

Junmyeon’s breath comes out in gasps, and his lungs feel like they’re on fire. But he runs, ignoring the strain in his legs. _Jongin_. Jongin needed him.

The peach blossom tree finally comes into view, along with his friend’s hunched figure at the bench underneath. He runs, but finds himself stopping just a couple of steps infront of his friend.

“Jongin…” he calls out tentatively.

His friend looks up at him, eyes red and swollen from tears. “Junmyeon,” he pleads.

In an instant, Junmyeon is sitting beside him, hugging him tight even though hugs between them became awkward some time ago. He holds his friend tight, patting the back of his head as Jongin sobs into his shoulder.

He remembers the time when they first met, when Jongin’s appa finally found them. When it was Jongin’s appa whose shoulder Jongin was crying into.

Junmyeon’s shoulders were not as broad, nor were they as trusty.

But he whispers a promise to the skies as he holds his friend.

_Please don’t worry. I’ll take care of him now._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Eomma’s coming here to live with me,” Jongin informs him as they stand infront of his father’s grave.

Everyone else was gone now. Even Junmyeon’s parents had left the boys, letting them have some time to themselves.

Junmyeon winces at the relief that floods his chest. It was great the Jongin would not be moving out of town. But he was being selfish. He should be thinking of how Jongin’s situation, not his own.

“She didn’t even come to his funeral.”

And Junmyeon sees it again, the rare bouts of frustration that Jongin seemed to reserve for his mother. Not knowing what else to do, he reaches for his friend’s hand. He half expected Jongin to shake his hand free, but instead he welcomes Junmyeon’s touch. He gives their hands a gentle squeeze.

They stay until the sun paints the sky red.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

February 2008

Jongin invites Junmyeon to come study at their house, but somehow coming over did not excite Junmyeon as much as it did before.

Jongin’s house was different now. His father’s paintings were gone, the flower vases were gone, too—all replaced with monochrome decors that seemed to suck the light from the rooms.

It’s actually quite weird for Jongin to invite Junmyeon to study. Jongin, who lazed around in school, preferring to fill his notebooks with doodles of eccentric buildings.

 “Eomma says she wants me to have high grades,” is all he offers as he sits infront of Junmyeon.

Junmyeon smirks. “Did you tell her exactly how stupid you are?”

“Yah!”

Junmyeon laughs, but he quickly stifles it with his hand. They’re not allowed to make noises here anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

October 2008

Jongin is quieter these days.

Junmyeon had thought that it must have been him still grieving, but this has been going on for too long now. The Jongin with the easy smiles and mischievous laugh seems to have been buried beneath the layers and layers of stiff clothing that his mother forces him to wear. She takes him along with her to events—fancy events that were off-limits to Junmyeon.

His friend seems to have been replaced with a meek boy.

But Junmyeon has learned to stop worrying.

Because when it’s just the two of them, alone in Junmyeon’s room… Jongin comes back. When he is in Junmyeon’s room, Jongin likes comic books again, likes making a ruckus again, likes drawing silly things on his notebooks again. When he is in Junmyeon’s room, Junmyeon is his friend again, and not the boy that doesn’t quite meet the standards of Jongin’s mother.

And that was all right.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

February 2009

“I want to build houses,” Jongin whispers, as they sit under their peach tree, sipping steaming cups of chocolate.

Junmyeon looks up from his cup. “You do?”

Jongin nods. “I want to build small, cozy houses,” he says. “Ones that stay warm even in the winter.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

July 2010

“What do you think about girls?”

 “What do you mean,” Junmyeon asks.

“I mean, do you like them?”

The question takes Junmyeon off guard. _Did Jongin notice?_

“I… I like them well enough,” he offers. “But…I don’t…”

“You don’t what?”

Junmyeon looks away.

He doesn’t see his friend’s eyes widen in realization.

“Junmyeon, are you… are you gay?”

Junmyeon visibly stiffens. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

He is suddenly being crushed in a hug. Jongin smells like chocolates, like always. His scent has always been addicting, but today it makes Junmyeon feel safe.

“What are you being sorry for?” Jongin demands. “Did you think I’d hate you for that? You’re Junmyeon. You’re my best friend. And that won’t change just because you like dicks.”

Junmyeon lets out an affronted squawk that makes Jongin burst into laughter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

October 2010

Jongin starts dating girls.

It’s hard not to wince whenever he tells Junmyeon stories of how his dates went, but Junmyeon keeps the smile painted on his face. It wasn’t Jongin’s fault that he didn’t feel as Junmyeon did. Maybe someday, Junmyeon thinks. Maybe someday it will become easier, and the longing in his chest will stop leaving him breathless.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m doing something wrong, somehow.”

Junmyeon looks up from his homework. Jongin is lying on the floor of his bedroom, and Junmyeon tries not to pay too much attention at how his friend’s hair splays out on the floor, catching the afternoon light that pours in from the window.

“I can’t seem to get into it,” Jongin continues.

“What are you talking about?”

“Girls!” Jongin cries as he sits up. “I keep going out with girls that I think are pretty, girls that I think I’ll like, but I just…never do. I mean, when you’re dating someone, you’re supposed to have butterflies in your stomach when you hold their hand, right? Your heart is supposed to go all erratic and shit when you’re kissing them, right?”

“And?

“And I don’t feel that,” Jongin sighs in frustration. “It’s really annoying. I want to be in love like everybody else.”

 “Maybe you just haven’t met the right one?“ Junmyeon offers.

Jongin rolls his eyes. “No shit.” He lays back down on the floor. “How did you even figure out that you like guys?”

“I just did.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

Junmyeon stares at his friend’s doodle-filled notebook infront of him. There’s a cottage in the middle of the page. It has a blue roof and walls made of bricks. There’s a small chimney poking out from the roof, puffing out a thin stream of smoke. “I… I think so.”

“No fair!” Jongin sits up again. “How come _you_ get to know how it feels to fall in love?”

It’s Junmyeon who rolls his eyes this time. “It’s not like I could control it, you know.” _I wish I could._

 “How do you know you love him?”

“I just do.”

“Have you kissed him?”

“No.”

“Have you held his hand?”

“…Yes…”

“And how did it feel?”

Junmyeon looks into Jongin’s eyes. “Like I’m flying and being grounded at the same time.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

January 2011

The soft ringing of his phone rouses Junmyeon from his sleep. He frowns at the screen. “Jongin, what is it?” he hisses.

“Junmyeon, can you come out? Please? I’m at the park. Under the peach blossom tree.”

“Jongin, it’s 2 fucking am.”

“I know, but please. Please. I need to see you.”

Junmyeon grunts in annoyance and hangs up. He had never been good at saying no to Jongin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The air is frigid, and Junmyeon mentally curses Jongin for choosing to meet up outdoors in the middle of winter. He pulls his coat tighter around him and trudges on until he sees the peach blossom tree. Sure enough, Jongin is there, pacing back and forth infront of the bench. He must have sensed Junmyeon’s presence, as he looks up and catches his eye. Jongin stops in his tracks and remains still as Junmyeon makes his way toward him.

“Well?” Junmyeon demands. “What did you call me out here for?”  

Jongin just stares at him, blinking slowly as if he were in a daze.

“It’s freezing, Jongin, and I’m sleepy. Start talking.”

“I…I’ve been thinking,” he starts. “About what you said. That maybe I haven’t met the right one.”

Junmyeon stills. “And?”

Wordlessly, Jongin steps towards him. “I think I have,” he whispers as he raises his hand to brush away a snowflake in Junmyeon’s hair. “I think I met that person, a long time ago. Right here, under this tree.”

Junmyeon’s breath catches.

“Those things I didn’t feel for those girls I dated, I think I always felt them for you. But I didn’t recognize them for what they were. I thought…I thought it was normal to be like that towards a friend. I thought it was normal to be that comfortable with you, yet horribly awkward with everybody else. I thought it was normal to like hugging you, to feel like there's something missing whenever I let go of your hand…”

Junmyeon steps back. “Jongin, what are you saying?”

 “Myeonnie. I think I like guys, too.”

And with that, he walks toward Junmyeon, who can only stand frozen as Jongin leans in to kiss him.

The kiss is soft, shy and too short-lived.

“No, not guys.” Jongin shakes his head. “I think I like _you_.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2013

 

It somehow became a silent agreement for them to hide their relationship. Junmyeon’s parents know about and accept his sexuality, but Jongin could not say the same for his mother.

College came as a huge relief. They both decide to enroll at a college across town. Jongin, who has a car, can afford the half-hour drive. Junmyeon decides to move out of his parents’ house and try living on his own. He rents an apartment near their university, which becomes his and Jongin’s informal place.

Junmyeon takes up Korean History. He tries not to cry when Jongin tells him he’s taking up Business Management instead of Architecture.

“I’ll keep drawing,” Jonign assures him. “And when Eomma retires, I’ll even invest on a firm.”

 

Dates usually involved driving at least two hours from town. Sometimes, when they don’t have time, they go to Junmyeon’s apartment and spend the day in, just watching movies or working on their school requirements together.

Having dinner outside, holding hands in public, announcing their relationship… it’s all out of the question, not when Jongin’s mother remains a huge figure in the business sector. Not when Jongin remains half a celebrity, and anyone of Jongin’s mother’s associates could happen to see them.  Not when Jongin all but trembles at the thought of disappointing his mother.

Their relationship leaves much to be asked, but Junmyeon is content. Jongin’s hand is warm. His eyes shine whenever he looks at Junmyeon. His hands have longs outgrown Junmyeon’s, but he doesn’t mind. He likes how his fingers fit in between his.

They spend hours in bed, just talking to each other. Junmyeon would tell him of how he dreams of travelling to countries far away, of learning about other people, of knowing the little nuggets of knowledge buried under history books and the passage of time.

Jongin talks about his frustration with his course, of how boring it got listening to numbers he did not care knowing about. He talks about how he will prove himself to his mother, and afterwards tell her about Junmyeon. Surely, she would be accepting then? After all, Jongin would have already done what she wanted him to, achieved what she demanded him to.

It’s all unfulfilled wishes for him, dreams set aside to please his only family. The present is bleak, filled with secrecy and caution. But the future…it looks much better. There, perhaps, they will be free.

But for now, for now…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

May 2014

Junmyeon opens the present, and frowns at the thick material. He pulls it out. It’s a gray wool sweater with a cartoon bear on its front. He can’t stop the surprised laughter from his lips.

“Jongin, it’s the middle of summer,” he whines.

“Oh, come on, just look at that bear,” Jongin argues. “Doesn’t it remind you of me? Doesn’t it just _melt_ your heart and fill it warmth? You always get cold during winter, consider this as a pre-winter gift.”

Junmyeon rolls his eyes. “You are so lame.”

Jongin grins cheekily. “You love me though.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I love you too,” Jongin coos, pinching Junmyeon’s cheeks before kissing him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

December 2015

It’s one of those rare long weekends, and Junmyeon uses the opportunity to visit his parents. They ask him about his studies, to which he answers easily.

“How are you doing with Jongin?” his Eomma asks afterwards, and Junmyeon slightly chokes on his food.

“I see him from time to time, Eomma,” he answers. “We can’t really hang out together much because we have different schedules and their building is far from mine…”

His Eomma simply hums and gives him a look. She smiles at him, and in that split second Junmyeon knows. _She knows. ._

“Well, tell him to take care of himself when you see him then,” she says, before giving Junmyeon and imperceptible wink.

 

 

 

 

_From Jongin :)_

Myeonnie, when are you heading back? I’m stuck with Eomma and her investors until the end of the weekend.

 

 

_From Myeonnie_

I’ll go back on Sunday evening, I need to rest up before facing school again >.<

 

 

_From Jongin :)_

Perfect! I’ll drive you, then. I’ll crash at your place. I’m sure Eomma will be too sick of my face to mind too much. Meet me by that peach blossom tree 6pm?

 

 

_From Myeonnnie_

Okay~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s already 7pm.

This was strange. Jongin was never late. It was one of the actually nice habits that his mother managed to teach him. Even when traffic was bad, Jongin could be counted on to arrive on time, because he always left an hour before his schedule.

Junmyeon sends text after text, but receives none in reply. He even tries calling, but his calls get dropped. He sits on the bench, arms folded to his chest to keep the cold out.

Junmyeon’s phone finally rings. He frowns at the unknown number. His fingers are stiff from the cold, but he manages to swipe his finger across the screen.

“Hello?” he says uncertainly into the phone.

“Junmyeon.”It’s Jongin’s voice. But it’s suspiciously thick. Junmyeon is about to ask him if he’d caught a cold, but a stifled sob from the other end halts his voice. “ _Junmyeon.”_

Junmyeon never thought he would hear his name being said like this, in half a wail and half a plea. It crushes his lungs out of air, makes his heart feel like it’s being ripped. “Jongin, why are you crying?” he asks nervously.

“Junmyeon, I’m sorry. I’m so, so, _so sorry._ ”

“Jongin, you’re scaring me.” He can’t keep his voice from trembling this time. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

He hears Jongin take a deep breath, but it ends in a soft whimper. He doesn’t say anything, not for a while.

“Eomma found out.”

The cold from the winter night felt like a warm blanket compared to the ice that grips Junmyeon’s chest.

“Eomma found out,” Jongin repeats. “She’s been getting suspicious, so she paid someone to unlock my phone. She saw our pictures, our messages, _everything._ She was so angry at me, Junmyeon. She says she didn’t raise me to be—to be a goddamned _faggot_. She—she’s making me go to Seoul.”

“Oh my god, Jongin,” Junmyeon says. “Where are you? I’ll go to you right now.”

“You can’t!” his voice is desperate, panicky. “You can’t Junmyeon. I can’t be with you.”

“Jongin, it’s all right—“

“No!” Jongin cries. “You don’t understand. Eomma, she… She’s arranged for me to marry a girl. If I don’t… she’ll disown me.”

All the fight drains out of Junmyeon at the mention of that word, that one word that Jongin was terrified of. It didn’t matter anymore, because Junmyeon knew he could never win against that word, that fear that was too deeply embedded in Jongin’s heart.

This was their end.

“Can’t you… Can’t you fight her this once, Jongin?” _For me?_

“You know I can’t, Myeonnie. I can’t…”

 _Myeonnie_. He loved it whenever he called him that. But tonight it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

“But after I’m married, maybe we can—“

“No,” Junmyeon cuts him off. “ _No._ Your fiancée does not deserve that. And I don’t deserve that. You have to learn to live with your decisions, Jongin.”

He hears him cry on the other end of the call, his sobs coming out muffled –he must be stifling them with an arm. He must still be at their house, if he’s trying to be quiet like this. Junmyeon can see him in his head—he’s probably sitting on the floor, hugging his knees and leaning on his bed for support.

“You’re right,” Jongin says after calming down. “You’re right, I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that. You deserve someone who will hold your hand, someone who can say they love you out loud. You deserve someone who will never be ashamed of who he is when he’s with you. I’m… I’m none of those.”

“Why can’t you be?” Junmyeon asks feebly. “Why can’t you be that someone?”

There is only silence on the other end of the line.

Junmyeon looks up to the sky.

The view is magnificent, almost magical. The floating dots of snow look like fairy lights against the dark wintry sky. His eye focuses on the branches above him, long rid of their leaves and instead covered with glistening ice. He wonders how this tree does it, seemingly dying and coming back to life again and again. He wonders if it gets tired of being barren, if it ever gets tired of waiting for spring.

Junmyeon shakes his head. Of course it wouldn’t. Because it’s a tree. And trees don’t have hearts that break when they’re left behind.

“I need to be away from you,” Junmyeon breathes into the phone. “I can’t see you anytime soon. You know why right? It’ll hurt too much. So unless you are willing to give it all up for me, please don’t look for me. I’ll reach out to you by myself someday, when I’m ready to face you again.”

“Junmyeon, I…”

“Be happy, Jongin.”

He ends the call.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

December 2015

Junmyeon spares one last look at his bare apartment. The last of his things are in the boxes at his feet. He wistfully glances at where his old couch used to be. He can almost see two figures leaning on it, sitting on the floor with their shoulders touching, hands intertwined between them.

He closes his eyes and says goodbye to the memory.

Inside he leaves his phone, his keys, and a gray wool sweater.

With a hint of finality, he steps out and locks his door.

He doesn’t see the phone light up and ring.

It rings intermittently for hours, until the battery dies out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2018

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

December 2019

 

Junmyeon is not sure how his feet brought him here. He’d only been walking around his hometown, breathing in the sights he hasn’t seen in a long time.

Somehow, he’s right here, infront of a tree he never thought he’d have the heart to see again. He smiles sadly as the memories flash through his mind.

There are small snowmen lined up at the base of the tree. Some of them were breaking apart, some were half buried in snow. There is one that looks like it’s only been made minutes before, and Junmyeon gives it an admiring pat before standing back up.

He sits on the old bench. It’s too windy and cold out to be sitting here, and people passing by are giving him looks of confusion. He looks so out of place. Perhaps to them he was lost, but he wasn’t lost. Underneath this tree, he would never be lost. Because this was their tree. And no matter how much time went by, this would always be their tree. And under this tree they would always find each other.

Junmyeon sighs. He really should stop pining for what was in the past, for what was forever beyond his grasp. He can only reach so far without being met halfway. Maybe someday, he will have that. But for now, he should forget.

 

 

He stands up and starts walking away, but finds himself being pulled back.

Arms embrace him from behind, and the scent of chocolates invade his chest.

 

“Hello.” The voice is soft, apologetic, and achingly familiar. “Are you lost, too?”

 

 

 

 


	6. Periwinkle Sky (SuHan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a world where colors determine your life, Junmyeon runs away and finds a sanctuary deep in the forest. 
> 
>  
> 
> Or:  
> The Darkest Minds! AU where Junmyeon is an Orange and Luhan is a Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made this extra long to make up for not updating last week hahaha I hope you guys enjoy
> 
> Disclaimer: I only watched the movie adaptation of The Darkest Minds. I took a lot of the elements from the movie. There may be some inaccuracies when it comes to the powers, since I’m not well-versed in the TDM universe. I hope you guys don’t mind! I just really became intrigued with this AU after watching the movie :)
> 
> Unbeta’ed so please pardon any mistakes ^^
> 
> Oh and Minseok is a bad person here, I’m sorry! I used his alter Xiumin tho, coz it seemed more fitting. Am sorry, Minnie!!!
> 
> 05 Feb 2019: edited some parts that were too rushed :) hopefully it's smoother now ^^

Present

 _I don’t remember it being this overgrown_ , Junmyeon thinks as he pushes yet another stem out of his way. The path is hardly visible under his feet, but he knows it’s there. And even if it wasn’t, he would have been just fine. He’d been walking this path in his head for hundreds, maybe thousands of times now, after all. If needed, he could probably even find his way even with his eyes closed.

He smiles as he sees the great oak tree, a sign that he was halfway to his destination. It looms over him, stands just as wide and tall and magnificent as he remembers, its leaves shimmering green to golden in the soft sunlight. He can almost imagine the tree greeting him as he brings his hand to rest on its trunk, feeling the rough bark on his palms. He regretfully steps away from the tree. He does not have enough time to be nostalgic. His feet impatiently pull him back to the path.

He trudges on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two years ago

Junmyeon is huffing, crashing through the forest as he tries to pump his legs faster. His lungs feel like they are burning, not quite used to the punishing exertion that he is putting them through. But he doesn’t have a choice. He has to run, to get away.

Earlier that morning, Xiumin had shown him exactly what ruling alongside him meant. “You’re going to love what I have for you today,” he’d told Junmyeon, as if this was just another lesson, another demonstration.

Turned out that it was. Only it taught Junmyeon this: Xiumin is a twisted person who can never be trusted.

Junmyeon would laugh at himself, if he wasn’t struggling to keep air in his lungs. By now, he should have been better at judging people, at telling the bad guys from the good.  But he’s just so damn trusting, so damn _gullible_. Maybe it was the longing for actual connections with people that got him everytime. And in the world they were living in, who wouldn’t want that?

The entire world was brought into its knees seven years ago. Junmyeon had been ten years old then, when the children started dying of an unknown cause. And after that, the ones who were left behind started manifesting… powers.

 _Disorder_ , as the government liked to call it. It seemed to be limited to children who survived whatever killed of the others. They soon categorized the children into five colors: green, blue, yellows, orange and red. The Greens were children who had enhanced intelligence. The Blues had telekinetic abilities. Yellowss can control electricity. Oranges and reds were rare, but they were considered dangerous. Reds can create and manipulate fire. Oranges were mind manipulators: they can compel people to do as they bid, talk into people’s minds. Rumor had it that they can even show illusions.

Regardless of their color, children were brought to the so-called rehabilitation camps. The camps were created for the purpose of "curing" the children of their disease, but what the public did not know was that they really were just prisons: a place for the government to keep and monitor what they have deemed dangerously unknown. 

Society was just skin and bones now. Economy was almost nonexistent, with no children to take over the dwindling workforce. 

 

 

 

Oranges are the most feared by the government. But mostly because Oranges are the only ones who can end them.

Or so Xiumin had said.

Being an Orange himself, Junmyeon’s life for the past seven years has consisted of running: running from the government who wanted all the Oranges dead. Running from bounty hunters who also wanted him dead. Running from fellow children who—no surprise—also wanted him dead. Not that he blamed those kids. Being with an Orange meant they would be in more danger than they already were.

So Junmyeon drifted, from one broken city to another. Always moving at night, only taking what he needed and keeping them in his old canvas backpack. Only using his power when it was absolutely necessary.

Xiumin had seemed like a savior. That’s what he’d called himself, too.

Junmyeon had stumbled into his camp one day, and was captured and bound before he knew what was happening. Scared out of his wits, Junmyeon grabbed the arm of one of his captors.

“ _Let me go,”_ Junmyeon said, his eyes flashing a vibrant orange.

“Well, look what we have here,” a voice to the side says. “A fellow Orange.”

Junmyeon’s head snaps up to the source of the sound, and was greeted with a catlike smile from probably the most captivating boy he has ever seen. The kids moved to the sides as the boy made his way towards Junmyeon, and Junmyeon felt his breath catch at the intimidating aura that the boy exuded.

The boy knelt infront of Junmyeon. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” he says as he lifts Junmyeon’s chin with a soft hand. “You can rest easy now. I’m an Orange, too.”

 

It must have been yearning on Xiumin’s side, as well. Yearning for someone who understood him, an equal who can help him achieve his ambitions.

For three months, Junmyeon stayed. For three months, Xiumin taught him how to use his powers more effectively. Every afternoon, they would sit in the middle of the floor of Xiumin’s bedroom, sitting across each other as they explored each other’s minds.

At first it was exhilarating: Junmyeon found a friend and confidant in Xiumin—someone who did not fear him for his abilities. Talks went from casual small talk to conversations about their pasts, about their fears and about their dreams for the future. Junmyeon’s was a small one: to live somewhere peacefully, in a place where he did not have to fear for his life all the time. But Xiumin’s. Xiumin’s dream was of an unbelievable scale.

He wanted to rule the world. “The adults are all insufferable idiots who are breaking the world more than it already is,” he’d told Junmyeon. “It could all be so much better. I can make it much better, Junmyeon. I know I can.”

And Junmyeon believed him. Even empathized with him enough to willingly offer his help.

But all that changed three months later, when Xiumin brought him into one of the empty houses a little ways away from the camp. Inside were two men in suits, sitting on chairs with a dazed look on their faces.

“These are two of the government’s dogs,” Xiumin supplies. “Found them at our borders this morning, no doubt looking for more children to kill.”

He glares at one of the men. The man stands up, as if a switch in him had been pushed. He takes out the gun holstered on his side. It happened way too fast, and Junmyeon could only watch in horror as he shoots the other man and then himself.

Xiumin turned to him then. “I did that, Junmyeon,” he said, eyes shining in awe. “I did that, without even touching them. Can you see? _This_ is how powerful we are, Junmyeon. Imagine what we can do? Together, you and I can end the chaos. We can end all the misery.”

Suddenly it all made sense. Hadn’t there been a lot of signs leading to this? Xiumin never told him about his plans, never elaborated on how exactly he was going to “change the world”.

Horror spread through Junmyeon like ice, gripping his heart and suffocating his lungs. But he twisted his face into a small smile. “You’re right,” he says as the taste of bile invades his throat. “We can do it, XIumin. Together.”

 

And that night, he runs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Present

The sky is turning dark, and for the first time in a long time, Junmyeon hears birds singing. He tries to imagine that they are bidding him good night as he pulls out his sleeping bag. He does not dare light a fire. The world wasn’t as dangerous as it was two years ago, but he supposes one could never be too careful.

Instead, he lights his small gas lantern. It provides his tent with a soft glow, not too bight but enough to read a book by. He fishes out a package from his pack, wrapped in one of his shirts. He carefully peels off the cloth and the yellow cover greets him. Smiling, he shifts into a more comfortable position and reads.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two years ago

Junmyeon’s vision was starting to get blurry.

He’d eaten the last of his crackers two days ago, and the water in his canteen was dangerously low. He’s been running for months now, hardly ever stopping for fear of being found by Xiumin again. He only rested at night, and even then he only slept for five hours, tops. He would spend a long time making sure he was completely hidden from sight, and when he woke up he would painstakingly remove traces of himself from that particular place. Xiumin was smart, therefore Junmyeon had to be smarter—and twice more careful.

Going into this forest, however, had been a mistake.

Junmyeon must have read his map wrong: he was supposed to have reached a city two days ago. But all around him it was all just trees, trees, and even more trees. He was hopelessly lost. And with his supplies having run out, he was definitely going to die soon if he didn’t make it out in a day.

 _Just a little bit more_ , he tells himself. _One foot infront of the other, Junmyeon. Keep going_.

He manages to keep himself walking for a couple more hours. He stops in his tracks as he sees a small house not far from where he was standing. There was smoke coming out from its chimney, and were those actual chickens running around? There is a boy chasing them, but stops when he notices Junmyeon. _I must be hallucinating,_ he thinks to himself as another wave of nausea hits him.

He hears a voice cry out as he falls to the ground.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Oh, good you’re not dead,” a cheerful voice greets Junmyeon as he opens his eyes. A face appears above him and Junmyeon’s cry of surprise gets stuck in his throat as his hazy mind struggles to catch up. It was the boy he’d seen before, but seeing him much closer was doing things to Junmyeon’s chest. He could feel a fluttering in his stomach as he stares at the boy’s doe eyes and thick brown hair that was combed well but seemed to have been cut messily. He sits back on his chair and regards Junmyeon with a look of curiosity. “You can talk, right?” he asks.

Junmyeon nods and sits up.

“Good!” the boys grins. “I’m Luhan. You are?”

“J-Junmyeon,” came the half-whispered reply.

“Nice to meet you, Junmyeon. How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

Luhan hums. “I’m only a year older than you, then. Funny. I thought you were much younger, given how small and scrawny you are. And in case you’re wondering, I lifted you here after you fainted.”

Junmyeon winced. “I wasn’t too heavy, was I?”

Luhan snorted. “I wouldn’t know. I lifted you with my mind.”

“You’re a Blue?” Junmyeon almost exclaims.

Instead of replying, Luhan holds out his hand towards the table behind him and levitates a glass of water towards them. The glass reaches his hand, and the water slights sloshes. He hands it to Junmyeon, who takes it gratefully.

“I don’t know why that surprises you, “Luhan says as he watches Junmyeon gulp down the water in mouthfuls. “All the remaining kids in the world have powers.”

“I know,” Junmyeon says, holding the empty glass by his stomach. "It’s just that I… haven’t seen anyone in a while--children _or_ adults.”

“Oh? How come?”

“…I’d rather not say.”

“You’re not running from anyone, are you?”

Junmyeon grips the blanket at his sides.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Who are you running from?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“What’s your color, then?”

“I—I’m a Green.” But the way Junmyeon’s voice wavers is telling.

Luhan raises an eyebrow. “You’re full of secrets, aren’t you.”

He stands up from his chair and stares at Junmyeon for a while, as if trying to figure him out. He shrugs. “Ya know what, to fuck it,” he says. “Doing this will probably get me killed, but somehow I feel like I can trust you. You can tell me about yourself when you’re ready. Until then, I guess I’ll just appreciate the company.” He holds out a hand for Junmyeon. “Are you hungry? I made us dinner.”

Junmyeon’s stomach answers for him with a growl.

Luhan bursts out laughing. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dinner was rabbit stew, which Luhan said he’d hunted himself. Junmyeon found that a little hard to believe, given how _soft_ Luhan looked. He was so pale, almost as pale as Junmyeon himself. He was only a little taller than Junmyeon, with a slender but firm figure. At some angles Junmyeon could swear Luhan was a girl, a thought that he decided to keep to himself.

The stew was amazing, however, and pacing himself was difficult for Junmyeon. This was the first meal he has had in days, and his stomach was begging him to chew faster, swallow down more, more more. Luhan seemed aware of this, and wordlessly refills Junmyeon’s bowl.

It starts to grow dark, and Luhan stands up from his seat to light a small gas lantern. Junmyeon looks up from his third bowl and properly takes in the house he was in.

It was really just one room, with the bed taking up one corner and the dining table at the other end. Beside bed was a fireplace, and infront of that was a small carpet and an armchair. It looked like a cozy spot, and Junmyeon is reminded of his grandmother’s house from before. He can almost imagine himself curling up on the carpet, a fairytale book in hand to take him to faraway lands.

He doesn’t notice the tear spill from his eye.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Luhan asks, alarmed. 

Junmyeon shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Just remembering things from the past, that’s all.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon spends the first three days in Luhan’s bed. He was still too weak from the accumulated fatigue and near-starvation, and it took a while to recover. Luhan was gracious about the whole thing, dismissing Junmyeon when he offered to sleep on the floor instead.

“Just sleep on the damn bed, if you say one more word about sleeping on the floor I’m going to sic one of my chickens at you,” Luhan warns.

Junmyeon laughs in disbelief, but the evil grin on Luhan’s face makes him shut up. He does not bring the matter up again, for fear of a feathery assault.

For a while, all Junmyeon does is sleep, and in between, Luhan would fill him up with various foods. Usually, it’s stew of some kind, depending on what he’d managed to catch. Sometimes it was soup with some homemade bread. The bread was a little dry, but Junmyeon was not complaining. Luhan would then tell him about his day. Luhan was always talking, always flooding with stories he was itching to tell. He must have been longing for someone to talk to, Junmyeon realizes. Not that he minded. It’s been a long time since he’s had someone to talk to as well. He loved listening to Luhan’s boisterous storytelling, his voice chasing away the suffocating silence that engulfed the world.

“Why don’t you just use your power?” Junmyeon finds himself asking when Luhan tells another tale about hunting with his bow and arrows. “Wouldn’t that be easier?”

Luhan sighs. “You sweet summer child,” he clicks his tongue. “You don’t know anything about hunting, do you? It’s all about the chase, the thrill that you get once you catch your prey. Use my power? I might as well buy my food at a supermarket then. Not that that’s an option either.”

“But that also means you won’t always catch something everytime,” Junmyeon argues.

“And that’s the way it should be,” Luhan says. “With how messed up the world is right now, a dose of normalcy from time to time will keep us all from going insane.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Present

Junmyeon wakes up with a jolt. _The Long Winter_ lays on his chest, still open at the last page he’d remembered reading last night. He glances at his lantern and sighs with relief. At least he remembered to turn it off before sleeping.

He closes the book and rewraps it in his old shirt before putting it back in his pack. After a quick breakfast of stale bread and water, he stands up. He still has a long way to go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two years ago

“I found this place when I was fourteen,” Luhan tells Junmyeon as they were gathering firewood. Junmyeon had finally been able to stand without getting nauseous a couple of days ago so he started helping out with chores. Luhan would not take him hunting, however, saying that Junmyeon was too loud. “I don’t know who lived in here before, but it was abandoned by the time I came here. I was pretty lucky, I guess. A couple of repairs here and there, and the house was good as new.”

“And the chickens?” Junmyeon asks.

Luhan snorts. “I snagged ‘em from a bounty hunter’s house after knocking him out,” he says. “The idiot actually brought me home so he could show me off to his wife. Me. A Blue that he didn’t even think to tie up. That was some Class-A stupidity right there.”

He went on, mimicking the bounty hunter and his wife, tickling a laughter out of Junmyeon in the process. “And on my way out, I saw the chickens and I thought, ‘hey, who doesn’t need chickens’ so I lifted all ten of them into a sack.”

“What happened to the ‘thrill of hunting’?” Junmyeon teases.

Luhan throws a stick at him. “ _You_ try chasing around ten chickens and let’s see how long it takes till you’re hollering for a Blue to help you.”

Junmyeon laughs again, and this time Luhan joins in.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

That night, Luhan shows him his secret stash of books.

“The _Little House Books_!” Junmyeon exclaims, reaching out for one. “I can’t believe it. My grandmother used to read me these!”

Luhan scratches at his neck. “I happened to run into a bookstore at a nearby abandoned city,” he explains. “I’m not sure why I grabbed this series in particular, but I’m glad I did. They’re nice stories. Helped me out a lot when it got too quiet around here.”

Junmyeon looked at Luhan. He imagined him, tucked into his armchair on a winter night, chasing away the loneliness with a book. The image pulls at his heart.

He raises the book and smiles at Luhan. “Want me to read it to you?”

The night ends with two figures, next to each other in front of the fireplace. Words of a long-gone age from a long-gone girl float through the walls, bending into a lullaby that sings them to sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Present

 

Junmyeon glares at the river before him. How did he even make it across before?

Oh, right. Through sheer, utter desperation.

There was no adrenaline rush now to help him.

 _Being a Blue would be such a helpful thing right now,_ he thinks.

With a resolute face. He takes his bag off so he can carry it above his head with his hands, and starts to make his way across.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two years ago

“I have something to show you,” Luhan tells Junmyeon as he pulls him along one day.

“See that?” he points to a rocky formation at the peak of a hill infront of them. “You can’t climb to that part by yourself. Not without special equipment and mad skills.”

“Why do I feel nervous about this?” Junmyeom mutters.

“But guess what? When you’re a Blue, you don’t need any of that,” Luhan continues, ignoring his companion’s concern. “When you’re a Blue, you can just lift yourself up places that nobody can even dream of reaching!”

“Luhan, no,” Junmyeon warns.

“Luhan, yes,” Luhan grins, and starts lifting himself and Junmyeon off the ground.

Ignoring Junmyeon’s shrieks and wails, the other concentrates on lifting them to the rocks, several hundreds of meters from the ground. He lets himself land on the rock first, and then uses his power to coax the airborne Junmyeon to him.

Junmyeon latches onto Luhan, clasping his arms around him like a koala for fear of falling.

“Calm down, grandpa,” Luhan laughs into his ear, but rubs a comforting hand up Junmyeon’s back. “I won’t let you fall, I promise.”

Junmyeon only whines in response.

“Come on, Junmyeon, I brought you here so you can see the view, not my chest.” Luhan pauses. “Well, my chest is as good a view as anything, but—“

He receives a punch to his side.

“Ow!” he grunts, laughing. “I’m serious, though. Look at the view, Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon finally relents, and his breath is effectively taken away by the sight before him.

He gazed at the vast expanse of greenness before him: the smooth and rough curves of mountains covered with numerous trees, now and then punctuated by the gray of rocks. The highest peaks kiss the low lying clouds, and it momentarily makes Junmyeon regret that they weren’t standing somewhere higher up.

“The sky always looks different from up here,” Luhan tells him in a soft voice. “It’s not really blue, see? I can never name its color.”

Junmyeon purses his lips in thought. 

“Periwinkle,” he soon supplies as he stares at the sky.

“Periwinkle?” Luhan repeats. “Like the flower?”

“Yeah. Like the flower.”

Luhan nods. “I’ll make sure to remember that, then.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A puppy wanders into their clearing.

It is Junmyeon who hears its cries in the middle of the night, and it is he who seeks it out. Luhan stays at the door, shouting after Junmyeon about ghosts that pretend they’re cute puppies so they can lure you to your death. He swallows his words later when Junmyeon finally emerges, with a scared puppy in his arms.

Luhan positively melts at the cute sight.

“Let’s name him Tan,” he suggests to Junmyeon as they watch the puppy greedily lap up milk from its bowl.

“Why not Ghost?” Junmyeon smirks.

He receives a shoe to his face as a reply.

 

 

That night, for the first time, Luhan sleeps beside Junmyeon in the small bed.

“Ghosts,” was all he offered as an excuse.

Junmyeon grins, not commenting on the arms that wrap around his waist and the solid warmth that covers his back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The days grow colder as autumn creeps in. They start spending more and more time indoors, drinking hot tea and reading. Sometimes, Luhan would tell Junmyeon about how big his family used to be, how he had four brothers that he’d always fought with. Their eldest liked singing a lot, and made them all promise to start up a band with him. Junmyeon held his hand as Luhan teared up, remembering that he wasn’t that nice to all of them before they’d all died to the sickness.

Sometimes it was Junmyeon who told stories. He would tell Luhan about his grandmother, how she used to bake him pies and read him fairy tales until he fell asleep. Sometimes he thinks he is on the verge of telling Luhan the truth about himself, but something always stops him. 

 

"Junmyeon," Luhan tells him one time. " You know that whatever color you are, I wouldn't care, right?"

Startled, Junmyeon can only stare at Luhan.

"You can be a Red for all I care," he continues. "Or an Orange. Or a Yellow, I don't care. You'll still be my friend. And I'm not pressuring you or anything okay? I'm just, you know, putting it out there. In case you're scared I'll sell you out to some bounty hunter or something. Which I definitely won't. I'd rather swim in chicken poop than deal with those bastards."

Junmyeon smiles, despite himself. "Thank you, Luhan," he says. "And I'm sorry I can't tell you yet. It's just... It's better this way. Safer."  _Safer for Luhan or safer for you?_  

There is a hint of disappointment in Luhan's eyes, but it is soon buried under a comforting smile. 

The problem was, Junmyeon wasn't hung up on his color. No. Junmyeon was not ashamed nor scared of it. What he was terrified of was telling Luhan that with all the power he had, Junmyeon had run away. Had turned his back on his responsibility. Had left the world to the mercy of a psychopath.

 

  _Coward,_ his mind hisses.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Luhan whispers one night, caressing Junmyeon’s hair as he stares into his eyes. “I can’t imagine how I lived by myself before, can you believe that? I spent four years here, alone. I was just fine. But not that you’re here I’m so scared that I might lose you someday.”

“You won’t,” Junmyeon assures him as he hugs Luhan tighter. “I won’t leave you. And for the record, I’m so glad that I’m here too.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon shouldn’t have made promises that he couldn’t keep.

 

Luhan could not be stopped from making his usual supply run to the city. “It’s almost winter, Junmyeon, and we need supplies,” Luhan argued. “I can only hunt and store so much. We need canned stuff, grains and shit. I know a grocery store that still has those, I even hid the entrance real well so no one else can get in.”

Seeing that Luhan will not be stopped, Junmyeon opted instead to go with him.

The trek through the forest took two hours, and it took another hour until the city came into view. The city was like a maze, with its dilapidated buildings and debris blocking the streets here and there. But Luhan navigated his way through it pretty easily. He soon led Junmyeon into his secret grocery store, grinning brightly as he waves him through shelves upon shelves of food.

They pack as much as they can into their bags, and Luhan uses his power to move various debris and cover the entrance. They were on their way out of the city when Junmyeon’s luck finally ran out.

 

“Hello again, Junmyeon,” Xiumin greets, and a blow to the back of his head sends Junmyeon tumbling into darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon wakes up to an insistent ringing in his ears.

“—myeon. Junmyeon!”

Luhan’s voice snaps him awake, and Junmyeon scrambles into a sitting position.

“Whoa there.” Arms wrap around Junmyeon and stops him from standing. “They hit your head pretty hard, you know. You shouldn’t move around that much.”

Junmyeon feels his stomach turn as he recognizes the voice.

“Xiumin,” he grits out.

“Now, now, what’s with the cold reception, Junnie?” Xiumin mocks. “We’re finally reunited after so long, and this is how you treat me?”

“What do you want?”

“I told you what I wanted half a year ago, Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon turns to him in anger. “Why?” he demands. “Why does it have to be me?”

  
“Because you and I are the only ones left.” Xiumin cups Junmyeon’s face in his hands. “You are the only one who can understand, the only one who can help me.”

Junmyeon sees vulnerability flash through his captor’s eyes. For a second, Xiumin actually looked like his age: eighteen—innocent and scared. The show of weakness is over in a second, but Junmyeon saw enough. Xiumin, with all the soldiers around him and all the power he held, was lonely. Lonely, just like everybody else.

And Junmyeon understood.

 

_“Understanding your prey is the most effective way of hunting them,” Luhan had told Junmyeon on one of the rare times he’d taken him along for hunting. “What does it eat? What does it need? Where does it get those? Why does it go there, not here? Why does it do what it does? Once you know those things, you can anticipate it. And when you can anticipate it, you can kill it.”_

All the noises disappear, and suddenly all Junmyeon could see was the picture in his head. 

Xiumin. 

Prey.

Arrow.

Eyes.

Xiumin.

Arrow.

Children.

Luhan.

Books.

_Coward._

Xiumin.

Xiumin.

Luhan.

Luhan.

Luhan.

_Luhan._

 

 

 

Orange.

 

 

 

 

“Get your filthy hands off of Junmyeon!” Luhan shouts, dispelling the moment. Junmyeon feels himself being pulled away from Xiumin, before the force stops abruptly. He snaps his head towards Luhan, who seems to have been frozen still.

“What did you do?!” he shouts at Xiumin.

“I merely made him stop interfering,” he says simply. He then regards Junmyeon with a cold glare. “I looked through his memories, Junmyeon. And I don’t like what I saw.”

“It’s none of your business—“Junmyeon starts saying before Xiumin grabs his jaw.

“It IS my business, Junmyeon, because you’re mine,” he hisses. “And do you know what I do with people who steal what’s mine? I make them kill themselves.”

He forces Junmyeon to look at Luhan. “Do you know what I can do to him?” he whispers. “I can tell him to go drown himself. I can tell him to use his power to lift up a gun and shoot himself in the head. I can tell him to lock himself up in a room and just sit there until he dies. I can make it so he knows what’s happening, but he won’t be able to do anything. He’ll be trapped inside his own head, his body slowly and painfully withering away as he starves to death…”

“Stop it,” Junmyeon gasps through his tears. “Please.”

“Then come with me. Come back to me, and I’ll let him go.”

“How do I know you won’t secretly have him killed?”

“You can read my mind, Junnie. You know I won’t be able to keep a secret from you.”

Xiumin releases Luhan from his power. “I always keep my promises. You know that, don’t you, Junnie?”

Junmyeon glares at him, but sees the truth in his words. He looks back at Luhan, who was struggling back to his feet. He pictures the house—their house—in that quaint little forest, the pretty little chimney and the warm bed, the stack of books and the ever-noisy chickens. If he’d known that he was seeing it for the last time this morning, he would have taken something with him to remember it by.

“I’ll go with you,” he announces.

“Junmyeon, no!” Luhan shouts.

“I knew you would make the right decision,” Xiumin says at the same time. “But you know that it doesn’t stop there, don’t you? He will try to come after us, he will try to _save_ you.” 

“I’ll take care of him,” Junmyeon says, getting to his feet.

“You will do it properly, won’t you?” Xiumin queries. “You know I’ll check his memories.”

Junmyeon does not give him an answer. Instead, he kneels infront of Luhan so that they are eye to eye.

“Junmyeon, whatever it was that he told you to do, don’t do it,” Luhan begs. “We can figure this out.”

Shaking his head, Junmyeon brings his hands up to cup Luhan’s face. His fingers trace over his eyes, his cheeks, his jaw, his lips that always curved into the naughtiest grins. He tries to memorize every facet, every detail. 

“You know how I feel about you, right?” he asks with a shaking voice.

Luhan nods.

“And I know you feel the same way,” Junmyeon continues. “But right now, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

Luhan frowns in confusion, but gives another nod.

Junmyeon looks deep into Luhan’s eyes, and the other’s memories play out to him like scenes from a tv screen. Junmyeon winds back through six months of memories, and starts doing something that Xiumin was never able to accomplish, no matter how much Junmyeon tried to teach him.

“ _You will forget about me_ ,” Junmyeon tells Luhan as tears fall from his eyes. “ _You will go back home. You won’t recognize my face, my voice, my name. You will sleep as soon as you get home, and when you wake up, you will remember this as just one of your usual supply runs. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. And you will go through your days as you have been doing all these years…_ ”

 

Junmyeon goes through Luhan’s memories, and starts erasing himself.

 

The boy who faints infront of Luhan’s house disappears.

The boy who reads him stories disappears.

No one sits with him on the cliff, no one argues with him on what to name Tan, no one crashes into his peaceful, solitary life.

 

Luhan blinks as his last memories of Junmyeon fades into nothingness.

He stares at Junmyeon, and then slowly gets to his feet. He picks up his backpack from where it was discarded on the ground and starts walking away.

Xiumin steps infront of him, checking just in case Junmyeon did not do as promised. He must have been satisfied, as he steps aside. “Let him through,” he commands, and his followers part to make way for Luhan.

Junmyeon watches as the lone figure walks farther and farther away, never looking back.

“Come, Junmyeon,” Xiumin bids. “You and I have a lot to do.”

 _Indeed,_ Junmyeon thinks, putting up barriers in his mind—invisible walls that Xiumin will never be allowed to see through.

He spares one last glance at Luhan’s fading outline and makes a silent promise to himself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Present

Junmyeon looks up at the rocky cliff. He smiles to himself as he remembers trembling at its peak. He wonders if the view from up there was the same, if _he_ still liked going up there by himself.

Junmyeon shakes his head. Of course he did. He’d told him to do that, after all, to live as he did before he ever met Junmyeon.

Right now Junmyeon can only pray that he was still there, that he had stayed there even after all this time. Because that was the one thing Junmyeon made sure that Luhan would have: his free will.

He wasn’t even sure if Luhan was ali— _No,_ Junmyeon denies. _He is definitely alive._

He looks resolutely up the path that he has to take.

 _Please be there_ , Junmyeon silently prays as he continues walking.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A year ago

Junmyeon had had to watch at the sidelines, seemingly powerless as Xiumin did as he wanted.

Seemingly.

In truth, Junmyeon had always known. Had always been able to tell that he was more powerful than Xiumin was, more capable of countless things that Xiumin could not even dream of. Throughout their “lessons” and trainings, Junmyeon listed off one by one the things he could do that Xiumin couldn’t.

Xiumin could not erase people’s memories.

Xiumin could not influence people’s emotions.

Xiumin could not show illusions.

And best of all, Xiumin could not see through Junmyeon’s memories unless Junmyeon allowed him to.

As he stayed beside Xiumin, Junmyeon learned. And learned some more until he understood. Until he could anticipate.

It took a lot of time, but when he finally deemed himself powerful enough, Junmyeon started planting seeds.

For every important person, for every government leader that they met, Junmyeon planted ideas, whispered thoughts.

 

_These rehabilitation camps are not helpful at all._

_The world needs children, it will die without them._

_Maybe these children can bring more good than harm._

_With their abilities, these children can help rebuild the world._

 

And as for the last seed, he corners Xiumin.

 _“Sleep_ ,” Junmyeon commands, and Xiumin falls to the ground. Junmyeon touches his head, and sifts through the memories. It was painstakingly slow, but he alters as much as he can, leaving little to chance. Xiumin was right when he’d said that he could change the world. But he will be changing it in Junmyeon’s terms.

“ _You won’t remember a thing about Kim Junmyeon_ ,” he whispers into the sleeping figure. “ _You are a good person. It’s your dream to see a world where children are part of the society once again. You will do whatever it takes to achieve this, but you will never hurt anyone in the process. You will use your power not to harm, but to help. You will fight anyone who abuses their power, be it an adult or a child. You will be this world’s guardian. You will end the chaos. You will end the misery._ ”

 

Xiumin mumbles in his sleep, and Junmyeon stands. He still had Xiumin’s army to influence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Present

After months of making his way back, Junmyeon finally sees it.

The roof looks tattered yet solid as ever, the chicken coop lies empty as always. Infront of the house, a boy sits with his eyes trained on the sky. Beside him was a dog with golden fur, whose nose picks up Junmyeon’s scent. The dog looks around when it sees Junmyeon. It knows this human, but at the same time it doesn’t. It lets out a confused bark.

The boy brings down his gaze from the sky and bristles as he sees the stranger before him.

“Who are you?” Luhan demands. “Stay where you are!”

But Junmyeon is not listening. No, he cannot bring himself to listen as his eyes fill with tears. He was here. He was alive. And he had stayed. Luhan had stayed.

He takes one step, and another, not minding as Luhan continues to shout warnings and starts to raise his hands in defense. But before Luhan can use his power, Junmyeon utters one word.

 

 

_“Luhan.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _“You will forget about me_.

 

 

_You will go back home. You won’t recognize my face, my voice, my name. You will sleep as soon as you get home, and when you wake up, you will remember this as just one of your usual supply runs. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. And you will go through your days as you have been doing all these years…_

_But when I call your name, your memories will come back._

_And you will remember who I am.”_

 


	7. Go-Karts Are Now Officially Banned (SuBaek)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baekhyun gets mad after finding out about Junmyeon falling asleep during their Go-Kart race
> 
> Also:  
> All of EXO is whipped for their leader and won’t let SuBaek cuddle in peace

Anyone else cooing at Junmyeon and worrying about him at the same time after  [THIS](https://twitter.com/exokiss88/status/1093440836715524096) happened on EXO’s ladder?? Coz saaaaaame

 

 And in case you missed Junmyeon calling Minnie his bestfriend and lover, [HERE](https://twitter.com/kjmarchive/status/1091571498991661056?s=19) you go ㅋㅋㅋ

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Baekhyun was mad.

No, not just mad, _fuming._

Wait, was that the best word for the angriest a person could get? Ok, he was _furious, enraged, livid_ —

 _Byun Baekhyun, get your act together!_ he mentally scolds himself.

The object of his anger was just a seat away from him in the van. He wasn’t even supposed to be _away_ from Baekhyun, but that fucker Jongdae went and sat between them at the last second. Said fucker was busy snuggling close to Baekhyun’s boyfriend again, and Baekhyun should be doing something about it, but he’s preoccupied with thinking back on their go-kart race just a couple of days ago.

He remembered being smug as he reached the finish line first, which was probably why he didn’t know about what happened to Junmyeon until he heard the staff talking about it. Apparently, Junmyeon had fallen asleep right at the track, just before the race started. One of the PDs had to go and wake him up so he could join the race.

And they were actually _gushing_ about how cute Junmyeon had been? Irresponsible bastards. How could they let his Junmyeon drive at that state? What would they have done if he’d gotten into an accident?? (But Baekhyun makes a mental note to see the footage for himself. He does need to replenish his Cute Junmyeon Material folder).

Of course, it wasn’t like he could lash out then. There were cameras around, and whether he liked it or not, the staff were only doing their job, too. They had been inconsiderate, but what could he do? Not everyone could be counted on to be clearheaded and prudent at all times. He couldn’t scold Junmyeon then either, because that would surely being his spirits down for the rest of the shoot.

Baekhyun had even joined in poking fun at Junmyeon, copying how he fell asleep. Deep inside, however, he was a simmering mix of anger and worry.

He crosses his arms over his chest and lets out a huff as Junmyeon giggles over another one of Minseok’s jokes. He seethes for the rest of the car ride home, but no one bothers him. Everyone in EXO knew that an angry Baekhyun was meant to be left alone.

  _Enjoy yourself while you still can, Kim Junmyeon,_ Baekhyun says darkly in his mind. _You’ve really done it this time._

 

***

 

Once the van stops and the doors open, Baekhyun shoves his way out, not forgetting to grab Junmyeon’s wrist beforehand. Jongdae lets out an affronted _Hey!_ and Junmyeon a confused _Erp?_ but Baekhyun pays them no mind as he marches towards the dorm with his boyfriend in tow.

Once inside, Baekhyun toes his shoes off and glowers at Junmyeon to do the same. The older gives him a bewildered look, but slowly takes his shoes off anyway.

“Hyun-ah, what—“ he starts to say, but Baekhyun tugs at his wrist again and drags him to Junmyeon’s bedroom.

Junmyeon starts getting a little scared. Having been Baekhyun’s boyfriend for a couple of years now has taught him that there really were only two instances where Baekyhun is silent: one, he is asleep; and two, he is _really angry_. He was definitely awake right now, so that could only point to instance number two. Junmyeon starts breaking out in cold sweat.

What did he do? Baekhyun wasn’t someone that got mad over small things, despite his occasional pettiness. He scours his memories of today and the day before, trying to find just what it was that made his boyfriend so mad.

The sound of his bedroom door slamming snaps Junmyeon back to the current situation. He is somehow facing his perpetually unmade bed, his clothes strewn about on the mattress. Where was Baekhyun?

He turns around and sees his boyfriend still facing the closed door, with his back towards Junmyeon.

“H-Hyun?” Junmyeon hesitantly calls.

Baekhyun turns around, and his glare makes Junmyeon gulp. “ _Kim Junmyeon,_ ” he growls, taking a step forward.

Junmyeon reflexively takes a step back. “Yes, Hyun-ah?” he replies, making sure to hide how his voice is shaking.

“You. Did you really fall asleep at the race track during filming?”

“Uh… yeah, I did. Why do you—“

“And the PD actually had to wake you up?” Baekhyun takes another step forward.

“Um. Yes?” Junmyeon still had no idea where this was going.

“And you drove? _In that state?_ ”

Junmyeon’s eyes widen in realization. “Oh.”

“’Oh’?” Baekhyun repeats. “ _Oh?!_ You were _drowsy_ , Junmyeon! And you fucking _raced_ while you were in that condition? What if you’d gotten hurt?”

“It’s all right, Hyun-ah. I was wide awake, I promise—“

“Don’t even give me that bullshit, Kim Junmyeon. If you were wide awake, you wouldn’t have fallen asleep like that in the first place! You always do this. Overworking yourself to the point of sheer exhaustion. This isn’t even the first time this has happened! When will you learn? Are you going to wait until you actually faint and break your neck in the process?”

Junmyeon finds himself bowing his head. He’d known Bakehyun was mad, but he didn’t think he was _this_ mad. “It’s not like that, Baekhyun-ah…”

“Then what the fuck is it?” Baekhyun shouts. “Because I’m really dying to know. Just what is it that makes you so damn _stubborn_ about working yourself to death? Was it pressure?  Did the bigwigs give you another lecture? Was it you being competitive? Or was it just another episode of Goody Two-Shoes Suho?

Junmyeon flinches, and Baekhyun instantly regrets his words.

He sighs, finally running out of steam.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean that, Junmyeon. But you know what I mean.”

But Junmyeon is already stepping back from him. He sits down on his unmade bed before looking up at Baekhyun. “Do you really think of me that way, Hyun?” he asks. “Is that really all that my hard work seems to you?”

“No no no,” Baekhyun insists. He walks towards Junmyeon and kneels infront of him. “I didn’t mean that. You know how shitty my mouth gets when I’m upset.”

“You went too far,” Junmyeon whispers, a lone tear slipping down his cheek. “I know you’re upset, but that was too far, Hyun-ah.”

Baekhyun brings up a hand to brush the tear away, his heart constricting in the process. He could never bear seeing Junmyeon cry. He mentally kicks himself in the head for being a dick. “You’re right,” he admits, pulling Junmyeon into a hug. “And I’m sorry for that. I really am. But I _am_ mad at you for pushing yourself too far. I care about you. I don’t like seeing you worn out, and the thought of you getting hurt scares me.”

Relief floods him as Junmyeon raises his arms and hugs him back. They just hold each other for a while, both apologetic about different things.

“I know I tend to work too hard,” Junmyeon acknowledges. “But I promise it wasn’t just because of that.”

Baekhyun pulls back to look into Junmyeon’s eyes. “Then what was it? You could have just sat the race out. No one would have minded.”

Junmyeon looks down, embarrassed. “Yeah, it’s just… all of us haven’t been together like that for a while now, you know?” he confesses. “It still not the same as before, especially because Yixing wasn’t there, but…it reminded me a lot of when we were still rookies. We were all together again in a show, after so many years. And it was really fun, Hyun-ah. It made me feel like a rookie again, all playful and excited and carefree.”

Baekhyun positively melts.

“It was really nice, just fooling around with you guys like that,” Junmyeon continues. “And when I accidentally fell asleep, the first thing I thought after waking up and realizing the race had started was ‘I don’t want to be left out’. I swear. I just really liked playing with you all and I didn’t want to be left behind.”

Baekhyun sighs in ~~utter adoration~~  exasperation.

“Aigoo, our grandpa liked playing with the kids that much?” he coos, ruffling Junmyeon’s hair, earning a whiny _Yah_ out of him. “I’m glad you had so much fun, Junmyeon-ah. But my argument still stands, okay? You have to take better care of yourself. Learn to know how to say you’re tired when you’re tired. Can you promise me that?”

Junmyeon is not sure if he could actually do it, but he nods. He wants to try, for Baekhyun.

“All right, now that that’s out of the way…” Baekhyun stands up and gives Junmyeon a light push on the shoulder. “Time for you to sleep. Uh-uh,” he tuts. “You’re not allowed to say no. I’m pulling boyfriend veto rights on this one. You’re tired and you’re going to sleep. And I call big spoon!”

Baekhyun jumps on the bed, and his heart soars at hearing Junmyeon’s ticklish giggle. Junmyeon curls up on his side, sleeping like the baby he was. Baekhyun positions himself behind Junmyeon and encloses his boyfriend’s waist in his arms. This will always remain his favorite place in the world: the closest to Junmyeon he could possibly be, he nose buried in his soft neck, his legs tangled with his, his chest positively baking from the other’s warm back.

 

 

Junmyeon smiles to himself as he closes his eyes, already feeling the tendrils of sleep claiming him.

 

 

***

 

 

“Kim Jongdae, what the fuck are you doing here?” Baekhyun hisses, rousing Junmyeon from his sleep.

“I am the best cuddler in EXO,” Jongdae hisses back. “You do NOT have cuddles without me!”

“We’re _boyfriends_ , you doofus, we cuddle without you all the damn time!”

“Yeah, well I liked Junmyeon-hyung first. I get Consolation Cuddles Privilege.”

Junmyeon feels the mattress sink as someone lies infront of him and hugs his waist, but he’s still too sleepy to actually open his eyes. He does feel Baekhyun slapping at whoever it was, though.

“Oh? What’s this?” It’s Minseok’s voice this time. “A Junmyeon snuggle party? And I wasn’t invited?”

Another body joins in, this time embracing one of Junmyeon’s legs.

“Minseok- _hyung_ ,” Baekhyun whines.

“Too bad for you, Byun Baekhyun,” Minseok replies. “But as Junmyeon’s bestfriend _and_ lover, I am entitled to at least a leg and a thigh.”

“Stop talking about Junmyeon-hyung like you’re chopping him up!” Baekhyun says exasperatedly. “And don’t think I don’t know that that was just another joke between you two grandpas.”

“Pfft. You’re just jealous that I have printed proof of Junmyeonnie’s undying love for me while you don’t.”

“I knew you would do this,” Chanyeol’s voice accuses before Baekhyun could say something in retort. “Look at them, Xing-hyung. These traitors are hogging Junmyeon-hyung all to themselves.”

“Tsk. I expected this from Baekhyun and Jongdae, but Minseok-hyung?” Kyungsoo adds in. “I didn’t think you would do us dirty like this.”

“Aigoo, will you drama queens just come and join us already?” Minseok groans. “Oh and hi, Yixing-ah! How have you been?”

“Ge, you’re all making me feel left out,” Yixing’s voice complains from a phone speaker. “I’m sleeping alone here. It’s not fair.”

Baekhyun perks up at the voice of the only person in EXO he can actually trust with his boyfriend. “Sorry, Yixing-hyung!” he chimes in. “But Junmyeon-hyung was working himself too hard again. It’s okay now, I already scolded him for it.”

“ _Aiyo_ our Junmian is so hard-headed. Keep looking out for him, will you? Amd give him an extra tight hug for me.”

“Ne, hyung.”

“Next time you can drop by, I’ll make sure to have all the kids here and we’ll put you right in the middle of the cuddle puddle okay?” Minseok promises. “For now, make do with Jun-Bun.”

Ah. So that’s where Junmyeon’s missing bunny plushie went.

“See, Jongin, I was right,”Sehun’s voice says. “The dorm was too quiet, there had to be something nefarious going on.”

Junmyeon feels Baekhyun’s arms tighten around him. “Ya, this bed already has five people in it, don’t even—“

“I say we just lie on top of them,” Jongin proposes.

“I say you’re right.”

The maknaes crawl into the bed and position themselves horizontally on top of their hyungs, not caring for the indignant cries and groans. “You thought you could get away with this? Without your cute maknaes?” Jongin says. “You hyungs are really vile.”

“Cute?” Baekhyun spits as he gasps for air. “You are fucking twenty-five years old Kim Jongin! You stopped being cute ages ago!”

“I beg to differ,” Sehun ~~and the author~~ argues. “Maknaes are perpetually cute, and your opinion is eternally rejected.”

“Xing-ge, I’m hanging up now, okay?” Chanyeol says apologetically. “That bed is running out of space, and it is a great injustice that Park Chanyeol is _still_ not in it.”

Junmyeon feels Jongdae raise his head. “Why are you stepping back?” he asks.

An ominous silence fills the air.

Baekhyun gasps. “Park Chanyeol, you insufferable bastard I know what you’re about to do, don’t--“

“ _Cannonball!”_ Chanyeol shouts and he launches himself in midair, much to the horror of the seven people below.

A collection of _Oof_ s and angry _Ouch_ es fills the room as the giant lands, but a single, soft _Ow_ silences them all.

“Junmyeonnie, are you okay?” Baekhyun asks worriedly. To the rest, he says “You stupid fucks. See what you did!”

Six voices splutter a mix of hisses (towards Chanyeol) and grumbles (towards Baekhyun) and apologies (towards Junmyeon).

“I’m fine,” Junmyeon assures them. “Just—Jongdae, can you move your head, please? I can’t breathe…”

Baekhyun kicks at Jongdae, and the head at Junmyeon’s stomach disappears.

“ _Hyung_ , Baekhyun-hyung said we’re not cute anymore!” Sehun whines.

“And he was mad at us for wanting to cuddle with you,” Jongdae chimes in.

“We just wanted to snuggle with our Super Leader Hyung,” Chanyeol fake sniffs.

“He even denies that you and I are lovers, Junmyeon-ah,” Minseok gleefully adds.

“Tattletales,” Baekhyun hisses. “Traitors!”

“You see, hyung?” Jongin implores. “Baekhyun-hyung is mean!”

“Oh my _god_ , why can’t I just cuddle with my boyfriend in peace?” Baekhyun explodes. “Will you all take your hands off of him, he’s mine, goddammit.”

“Now, now, what happened to We Are One?” Kyungsoo says.

The unexpected line makes everyone erupt in surprised laughter. 

“It’s okay if even if they’re all holding me, Hyun-ah,” Junmyeon reassures his boyfriend. “Because I’m only holding _you_.”

Six people groan simultaneously (one sits up and graces them all with a smug smile), and the cuddle puddle disintegrates.

“Geez, hyung, save the cheesiness for when you lovebirds are actually alone,” Jonign scolds as he stands up.

“Ugh, I suddenly feel icky all over,” Kyungsoo says with a shiver.

“Don’t listen to them, Junmyeonnie,” Minseok winks. “That was adorable. As your lover, I approve.”

A pillow hits him on the head and Junmyeon’s amused laughter follows him out.

Finally alone, Junmyeon turns to face Baekhyun. “Thanks for today, Hyun-ah.” His face stretches into a soft smile, and Baekhyun stops himself from pinching his boyfriend’s pink cheeks, still adorably swollen from sleep.

Baekhyun returns the smile and brings a hand to the back of Junmyeon’s head to pull him closer. Junmyeon’s eyes flutter shut as Baekhyun—

 _Flash_.

“Sorry about that,” Jongdae says flippantly, holding up his phone. “Could you kiss again, though? I didn’t quite get the right angle.”

Baekhyun yells out a war cry and he launches himself off the bed, the day’s accumulated stress finally getting the better of him.

 

Junmyeon watches from the bed as Baekhyun attaches himself on Jongdae’s waist and pulls on Jongdae’s hair. He sighs in contentment as his laughter dies down to a smile.

Days like this are the best.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. We Were (SuLay)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When did he stop?  
> When did Yixing stop?  
> Junmyeon did not know. But he is sitting in the middle of everything from the past years that he’d thought to keep in a box: photographs, old broken cellphones, a pile of love letters, some stray movie tickets from various dates, scratched CDs of their favorite bands. These things were so full of them both, their love. But Junmyeon cannot reach them. He cannot reach the feelings that are embedded in each trinket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been spoiling you all with too much fluff lately kkkkk here’s some angsty SuLay coz my dead heart could not throw up something nice 
> 
>  
> 
> Do leave comments! This writer needs to be fed :'(

 

 

 

 

 

It’s six o’ clock, and Junmyeon is finally done with cooking. He’s shit at cooking even on his best days, but today he’d wanted to give it a try. He surveys the table for the last time, tastes the pasta again just to make sure nothing was wrong. It wasn’t delicious, but it was good enough.

Satisfied, he unties the apron at his waist and heads for the bathroom for a quick shower.

He’s not sure why he’s done something like this, anyway. He and Yixing are not the type to cook dinner for each other. At least, they’re not anymore. Not when they’re both too busy with their work and hardly ever see each other these days. But it was their ninth anniversary. This was a special day. It had to count for something.

Right?

Yixing hadn’t mentioned anything about it when Junmyeon saw him this morning. Not that Junmyeon was waiting for him to—Junmyeon hadn’t known what day this was either. If it weren’t for his phone reminding him, he’d have forgotten about it entirely.

Having a high position at work allowed him to take the afternoon off. He sent a simple text to Yixing, telling him he’ll be cooking dinner tonight. Junmyeon wouldn’t blame him if he forgot about their anniversary as well. Yixing hadn’t replied, but surely he got the hint, right? It’s not like Junmyeon cooked everyday…

Junmyeon stands under the showerhead and lets himself get lost in the warmth of the water. He closes his eyes, and wonders why he’s not looking forward to their dinner as much as he thought he would.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yixing does not come.

At half past nine, a simple text of _Working late. Can’t make it_ comes in his stead.

Junmyeon stares at the pools of melted wax on the table, the candles having burnt to stubs an hour ago. He turns on the lights and sits back down. He stares at the plate in front of him.

 _What a waste_ , he thinks. He picks up his fork. The pasta is cold and rubbery. Junmyeon keeps chewing, but he can’t taste a thing.

 

 

 

 

 

_It’s already ten o’ clock, and Junmyeon is getting worried. But Yixing promised he’d come. And Junmyeon promised that he’d wait. They both hadn’t counted on a sudden downpour, however._

_He almost steps out into the rain, but an approaching figure halts his footsteps. He nearly faints from relief when the figure steps into the light and he recognizes it as his boyfriend. Yixing has both hands folded by his stomach, which seemed to be protruding. His face breaks into a grin as he sees Junmyeon, and runs the rest of the way to him._

_“You idiot!” Junmyeon scolds. “I keep telling you to always keep an umbrella in your bag. You’re going to catch a cold like this!”_

_“I’m sorry,” Yixing says with a laugh and leans in to kiss Junmyeon in the cheek. “Did you wait too long? I missed the bus so I had to walk here. But I saved the cake!” He opens the front of his jacket and reveals the small box that he’d been holding inside. “The frosting’s probably all melted, though,” he adds sheepishly._

_Junmyeon fights the smile that threatens to break his jaw. He must have fought it too much, because tears start to fall down his cheeks._

_“What’s wrong?” his boyfriend asks worriedly._

_Junmyeon shakes his head. “You didn’t have to do something like this. It’s not like we’re celebrating anything big.”_

_“You just finished your midterms! It counts as a special day.”_

_“But it’s raining…”_

_Yixing sighs and gives him a gentle pat on the head. “Doesn’t matter if there’s rain or snow, Mian,” he says.  His smile is soft, but it still brings out the dimples in his cheeks._

_“If it’s for you, I’ll always come.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon wakes up to the sound of plates clinking and water running. The other side of the bed is cold, and it looked like it hadn’t been slept in. It didn’t bother Junmyeon anymore. He’s been sleeping alone for quite a few months now. There was a reason somewhere—Yixing working late hours, Yixing not wanting to disturb his sleep, Junmyeon being too much of a clingy sleeper… It was always one of those. They’d argued about it before, but Junmyeon is too tired for a fight this morning.

He shuffles into the kitchen. Yixing is already taking off the apron at his waist. He sees Junmyeon and smiles (though it looks more like a grimace).

“I didn’t think you’d be up this early. I already ate breakfast.” _When did they stop eating breakfast together? They used to fight over Junmyeon always wanting more pancakes._

Junmyeon does not reply, and an awkward air settles in the room.

“Anyway, I, uh…need to go to work,” Yixing says, scratching the back of his neck. “So, yeah. Enjoy your breakfast.”

Yixing starts for the door, but suddenly halts infront of Junmyeon. He stands there for a second, before hesitantly placing a peck on Junmyeon’s lips.

It was barely a kiss, but it leaves Junmyeon confused. Yixing hasn’t kissed him, let alone touch him, for so long now. So why…?

His ears register the sound of the door closing shut.

Junmyeon notes how there was no mention of last night. Perhaps that was what the kiss was for? Suddenly he could taste the other’s apology and regret on his lips. But what was Yixing feeling regretful for? Was it for missing their dinner, or was it regret from not leaving as fast as he could to avoid Junmyeon entirely?

He looks around at the kitchen. The table bears no evidence of the dinner he’d left on it last night. In their stead are more traces that Yixing left for Junmyeon.

 _I’m sorry_ , whispers the coffee, still steaming in the mug. (But Junmyeon hates hot coffee)

 _I’m sorry_ , the plate of pancakes murmurs, the slab of butter melting at its top. (But there are no extras, just a single stack of neat, uniform cakes)

 _I’m sorry too,_ Junmyeon thinks, as he leaves them both untouched.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Junmyeon remembers being sure he was in love with Yixing._

_They were both in college then, both fraught with their own burdens. Junmyeon was struggling with putting himself through college, his parents making it clear that they wanted nothing to do with him after he came out as gay. Yixing, on the other hand, was struggling with being alone in a foreign country. Both penniless, they resort to living in the cheapest rooms they can find—at the goshiwon._

_The goshiwon was dreary, and so was life in general. Junmyeon lumbers home one night, eyelids drooping with exhaustion from school and his part time job. He swings by the shared kitchen, aiming only for a drink of water, when the sight of a lone boy eating at the dining table catches his eye._

_He looks up at Junmyeon in surprise. His face looks exotic, foreign. “Annyeonghaseyo,” he softly greets in accented Korean. “Would you like to eat with me?”_

_Junmyeon does not know what makes him agree, but he does. Nodding, he takes an empty seat infront of the boy, who stands and brings Junmyeon a plate._

_“I’m Zhang Yixing,” the boy tells him._

_“I’m Kim Junmyeon.”_

_Zhang Yixing smiles, and Junmyeon’s eyes are drawn to the dimples that his smile whittles on his face._

_“Junmian,” he says._

_He’s saying it wrong, but Junmyeon finds himself not caring._

_They spend the night conversing, each sharing his own story while taking bites of dinner in between. They both find themselves seemingly quenched of a thirst they didn’t know they had, and the night turns into morning before they bade each other farewell as friends._

_Every night after that, the lights at the kitchen of the goshiwon remain bright until the wee hours, two voices humming in easy chatter and occasional laughter mingling with the soft noises of the city night._

_Several months later, and Junmyeon finds himself leaning in towards Yixing’s lips. There were no fireworks, no dramatic music. But Junmyeon’s heart flutters in his chest as Yixing kisses him back. He doesn’t know how Yixing did it, but Junmyeon feels so much, hears so much from the way the other was kissing him._

You’re beautiful, _his lips say as they explore Junmyeon’s._

Thank you, _his hands say, finding their way into Junmyeon’s hair._

I love you, _he says, as he takes Junmyeon in his arms, almost desperately._

 

I love you too, _Junmyeon says back, and hopes that Yixing heard it too._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two hours later, and Junmyeon is still standing in their apartment. He’d called in sick to work. He had a lot of sick days to use up, anyway. Sick days he’d been saving for years for that month-long cruise he and Yixing had been dreaming to get on forever.

He’s aimlessly walking through the rooms. Their apartment is ridiculously big—it was one of the first things they spent money on together as soon as they could afford it. It had been one of their vows to themselves: to live in a luxurious residence to make up for all the years that they spent in the dingy goshiwon.

Junmyeon remembers being ecstatic when they first moved in together, bursting with ideas on how to design the place. There was a large bedroom, a spacious kitchen and an airier living room. The two spare rooms became their separate studies.

Junmyeon opens the door to Yixing’s study, and his eyes are instantly drawn to the clothes on the floor. There is a lone pillow on the leather couch, a blanket hanging off of it.

This was Yixing’s bedroom now.

Junmyeon closes the door with a sigh.

He shivers. Has their home always been this cold?

He looks around him again and his breath comes out as a whimper. Like a madman, he wanders through the apartment, searching for something— _anything_ that could make him feel.

When did he stop?

When did Yixing stop?

Junmyeon did not know. But he is sitting in the middle of everything from the past years that he’d thought to keep in a box: photographs, old broken cellphones, a pile of love letters, some stray movie tickets from various dates, scratched CDs of their favorite bands. These things were so full of them both, their love. But Junmyeon cannot reach them. He cannot reach the feelings that are embedded in each trinket.

He blinks out tears, not out of sadness but out of frustration.

He sits at the center of the pile, mourning.

Afternoon comes, and he places them all back into their box. He arranges them all with care. He owed it to them.

He stands up and pulls out a much bigger box, and starts putting his clothes in it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“Why did you run away?” Yixing demands as he pulls back from their kiss, tears staining his cheeks. “You’ve been gone for so many days, I was so worried!”_

_“I—I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” Junmyeon stutters. “Y—you kept hanging around Luhan, and I know you loved each other in the past. He still loves you, you know.”_

_“But that doesn’t mean I love him back!”_

_Junmyeon shakes his head, still unconvinced. “I asked you so many times, Xing. I kept asking, but you never gave me a straight answer. You would always steer the conversation to a different thing. And last week, last week you—you were hugging and—“_

_“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Yixing cuts him off. “I’m so sorry, Mian. I knew it was bothering you, but Luhan was going through a rough patch and I had to help him out. I didn’t want to talk about it because I knew that it upset you so much.”_

_Junmyeon gives him a weak punch to the chest. “You should have told me that. You should have told me, Xing.”_

_“I know, I know, Mian. I’m sorry I’m so bad when it comes to talking things out.”_

_Junmyeon snorts. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we? When things go wrong, you go mute and I disappear.”_

_“We can be better. Let’s promise each other this, hmm? I promise I’ll talk to you about my problems more, and promise me in return that you’ll never get tired of prodding me when I get too bad at it.”_

_“I promise.”_

_“And promise you won’t run away again, you scoundrel. What are you, twelve?”_

_Junmyeon giggles and slaps Yixing’s shoulder. “I promise."_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hadn’t Junmyeon tried enough?

He would call Yixing whenever he could, even when the other only gave curt answers in return. He would plan dates for them, but more often than not they would end up not going (It was always because of the same reason: their work). He would send Yixing gifts, sometimes even flowers, even when he did not receive many in return.

Looking back, Junmyeon isn’t sure if he was actually trying to save their relationship, or if he was just doing it so he can say to himself that he did something—so he could place the blame on Yixing. Did he really want to save them? If he’d really wanted that, why did it feel so tiring? Shouldn’t fighting for what you love be rewarding? Why does he just feel more and more exhausted each day?

Both of them are cowards, Junmyeon thinks. He is one for running away, and Yixing was one for always dodging the matter. But he forgives them both a little. After all, they cannot fight to keep what has not been theirs for a long time now.

He gives a last look at their shared apartment. A certain picture catches his eye. It’s their picture from five years ago, taken right after their graduation. They’d promised each other forever then, perhaps a touch impulsively as they were giddy with their success. Junmyeon gives the picture a fond smile before laying it upside down.

Maybe forever meant different for everybody. For others, perhaps it meant the rest of their lives. For some, maybe it was as short as a year, a month, a night. For Junmyeon and Yixing, it meant nine years. No, perhaps it was shorter than that. But they meant it back then. They meant it when they said they loved each other. They meant it when they swore forever. And to Junmyeon, that was enough.

 

He opens the door and steps out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“We did it, Mian. We actually did it!”_

_Junmyeon fervently nods and mirrors the tearful grin on his beloved’s face. They’ve been through so much, lost so much, but today they will finally start having more. From now on, they were free—and it is a mix of fear and excitement that Junmyeon is feeling in his veins right now: a future that may not be much brighter than the past but definitely more promising than the present was waiting for him and Yixing._

_“Junmian,” Yixing starts. “This is really pathetic, but… can I ask you to marry me? I don’t have a ring for you yet. But I’ll start saving up for it. And then I’ll save up for our future together. We’ll have the biggest house I can afford, and we’ll never starve nor want for anything again. I promise I’ll do all of that. I’m sorry I’m being so shameless and doing this without a ring but I really—“_

_Junmyeon stops his words with a kiss._

_Though shocked, Yixing’s hands react and they go around Junmyeon’s waist like it was second nature._

_“Yes, Zhang Yixing. I will marry you. Who cares about rings? You placed a ring on my heart a long time ago.”_

_Yixing laughs at the cheesy words and places another fond kiss on Junmyeon’s cheeks._

_They walk out of the university gates together, hand in hand._

_Today their forever begins._

 


	9. Progression (XiuHo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minseok wants Junmyeon to call him hyung.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is… I don’t know what this is tbh lol. I just miss our Minnie a lot and I was watching old EXO vids. It stirred up some thoughts I’d had from way back, especially the ones about how Junmyeon and Minseok much more shameless when it comes to their bff-ing ^^ this contains stuff from predebut to the present, just exploring Minseok and Junmyeon’s interactions. Some stuff are canon, most are from my imagination. It went through the 2014 period too, which explains the slight angst tag. But don’t worry! It gets a liiiiittle lighter from there hahaha
> 
> This was supposed to be like 3k words but somehow it’s now 8k I dunno why it’s really just word vomit. hahaha I’m sorry I suck at writing! I both hate and love this lil baby fic of mine lmao
> 
> Also, congratulations to our Minseokkie for finishing his training with flying colors! He got the military so shook with his skills lmao Slay, baby, slay! And also please take care I wuv u
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy! Hyung ship always makes me soft uwu

 

It was like Minseok never even stood a chance.

 

The first time he meets Junmyeon, the younger already had three years’ worth of experience on him, already had a reputation as the kind guy who many people depended on. Looking back, Junmyeon reminded him a lot of those class president characters in anime shows, the kind that was reliable. The kind of guy you would go to when you had problems.

 

“You’re Minseok, right?” were Junmyeon’s first words to him. “I’m Junmyeon. Let’s be friends!”

And the smile he flashed Minseok afterwards was just too bright that Minseok decided not to bring up the fact that he was a year older.

(Maybe it also helped that Junmyeon was the first person to actually know and call him by his name, and not mistake him as Chinese.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Here you go.”

Minseok looks up from his phone, making sure to pause the video. The fancam was an absolute gem and he can _not_ afford to miss a second.

It’s Junmyeon, and he’s handing him a piece of paper. Minseok takes it with a small frown, confused.

“Apparently they’re looking for some extras for that new music video of SNSD sunbaenims,” Junmyeon explains. “Maybe you could give it a try?”

“Nah, I think I’ll pass,” Minseok smiles. Maybe if it was for DBSK he’ll actually try for it. (He was still a little sad that he didn’t get to appear in the HaHaHa Song). “But thanks for letting me know.”

The younger tilts his head, confused. “Why not? You look great, and you sing well too.”

Minseok snorts. “There are so many others who are more handsome, and it’s not like I’ll be singing in the video, so…”

Junmyeon shrugs and starts walking away. “I still think your singing is great, though.”

Minseok tries to go back to his fancam, but not even Changmin’s dancing can distract him enough.

 _Brat_ , he thinks as he smiles to himself. _He talks as if I’m a genius or something._

Junmyeon was the kind that complimented everybody, and it shouldn’t affect Minseok so much.

 

(It does, anyway.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“What do you think about this?” Luhan asked Minseok as he passed him the ball with a soft kick. Minseok tracks the movement of the ball over the grass, still quite damp from the morning dew._

_Minseok thinks he’s talking about soccer, but Luhan goes on saying, “You and I, we’re both older than he is, and there’s Yifan too. Don’t you think this will cause problems later on?”_

_Oh, so he was talking about Junmyeon. They had a meeting with the executives of the company this morning. They had been assigned their roles—leader, main vocals, lead vocals, lead dancers and so on._

_Minseok considered it for a minute while dribbling the ball on his knees. Sure, he was older than Junmyeon. It was usually the older members who led the group, but then again Junmyeon trained longer than any of them did. Plus if it weren’t Junmyeon and Yifan, who else would lead them? He couldn’t imagine any other members doing it. He tells Luhan so._

_“Training is good, yeah,” Luhan agrees. “But do you think that’s enough? Will he be a good leader?”_

 

 

It’s been almost a year since their company announced that they’ll be debuting next spring. They only had a few weeks left before their debut showcase, and a lot of things still needed polishing. There was that, and the fact that Minseok was going to promote with five others in China as EXO-M. He didn’t mind having to learn Mandarin, or having a stage name like Xiumin. It was just that… everyone else was _something_. Jongdae sang so well. Luhan, too, and he looked like an angel. Yifan was godlike, and his rapping made him so much cooler. Yixing was the main dancer, there was no question about it. And Zitao, he was the show stopper. His dark blazing eyes and overflowing charisma as he moved was breathtaking. But as for Minseok… what was he? He was sang and danced well, but then what…? What was his role?

“Minseok-ah, your eyes are really pretty.”

Minseok is startled out of his thoughts. He’d been lying down on the floor of the practice room, drained after four straight hours of dancing. Junmyeon was sitting beside him, back leaned against the mirrored wall.

 “You don’t even need double eyelids,” the younger continues with awe in his voice. “Your eyes are so big already. It’s almost like a cat’s.”

“Yah, stop it,” Minseok grins anyway. “They’re not even that special. Sometimes they’re too pointy for my taste. Makes me look like that fat villain in _Dragon Ball_.”

“You mean Majin Buu?” Junmyeon asks. “Why?”

 _Do you really need to ask?_ Minseok winces inwardly as he sits up. He hated talking about things like this. “Because I’m fat. My cheeks are fat, my body’s fat. I’m just, yeah. Fat.”

Junmyeon fixes him with a stare, giving him a once-over that has Minseok looking down at his toes, not wanting to see the disgust slowly appear in the other’s eyes. He’d seen that look enough from everybody. He didn’t need to see that from Junmyeon, too. He wonders why it matters to him, however. It wasn’t like he and Junmyeon were particularly close. But for some reason he didn’t want Junmyeon to hate him.

A pinch on his cheek abruptly brings Minseok out of his thoughts.

“I like your cheeks though?” Junmyeon smiles at him. “They’re squishy and cute.”

Minseok blinks, but before he could come up with a better response, Junmyeon jumps up to his feet. “Back to practice!” he says brightly. “Could you show me that move again, please? You’re much better at dancing than I am.”

Minseok can only shake his head in disbelief. Junmyeon didn’t lie, didn’t coo at him in pity, didn’t offer him the usual _It’s okay, I’m sure you’’ll lose weight soon enough!_ There was just acknowledgement, and better yet, _acceptance._

How was he so good at dispelling dark thoughts and make people feel great about themselves at the same time? How did he even know about Minseok’s insecurities? Probably the same way he knew to always bring pain relief patches for Yixing and Jongin, to bring extra kimbap rolls for Chanyeol who always forgot to eat, to sneak vegetables and meat on Yifan’s plate because the Chinese leader tended to rely on health supplements too much.

With a grin, Minseok gets on his feet. “Yah, is that how the future leader of our group should be?” he teases. “You’re almost as bad as Jongdae, and his dancing horrendous.”

“Stop it,” Junmyeon laughs. “At least we make you guys crack up with our moves.”

“That you do,” Minseok agrees as he turns the music on. Junmyeon quickly stands in position, preparing for the first notes of their debut song. Minseok watches the younger as he concentrates on each move, dancing passionately albeit clumsily. His dancing was far from perfect, but it makes Minseok smile anyway.

 _Yes,_ he thinks. _He’ll definitely be a good leader._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon was like a secret, but never felt like the mysterious type. He made everybody feel like they knew him well. He was generous with his smiles, his encouragements, his jokes. But somehow he wasn’t the same when it came to his sighs, his tears, his frowns.

As a bystander, it was easy for Minseok to observe. He was never close enough to Junmyeon for him to be called a friend, but he wasn’t a total stranger either. At best, he would categorize them as colleagues who got along well enough to hang out together from time to time.

Sometimes he played a game with himself called Spot the Sad Junmyeon. It was a challenge, trying to find the kinks in the armor. It became much harder after they had debuted as EXO, too. They saw each other rarely especially during promotions, but Minseok took note of how at each time, the younger looked more and more stiff. It was almost like Junmyeon was hardening himself on the outside, layer by layer, fake smile after fake smile.

Minseok wondered why. It wasn’t the same with Yifan, and he was their leader too. Maybe it was a matter of personality?

He only gets glimpses of K whenever they had breaks or had to come back to Korea, but a year later they get the announcement that they will be promoting as a single group this time. No K or M. Just EXO.

Minseok was mostly glad about the news. Sure, it meant a much louder dorm, especially with Baekhyun, Jongdae and Chanyeol under the same roof, but… somehow it just felt better this way. More complete.

Barely a week in the dorm with K, and Minseok finally figures it out.

There’s Jongin, always absorbed in training, practicing to make his already brilliant dancing even better. Sehun, who was still unsure of himself, contradictory in that he tended to shy away from most people but was constantly seeking the attention of his hyungs. Kyungsoo was a little more like Minseok, who mostly spent his time alone watching movies and anime ( he’d told Minseok to watch the movie called _Air Doll_ , and Minseok trusted Kyungsoo’s taste but then again he was the same guy that recommended _Izo_ and _Architecture 101_ in the same sentence). Baekhyun worked hard on his dancing, too, in order to make up for his short trainee period (not that he has particularly bad, however. Minseok could tell that Baekhyun was a good dancer, if only he would stop goofing off). Chanyeol worked on songs more, staying up almost all night looking like a ghost with the perpetual glow of his laptop.

All of them were caught up in their own thing, driven and passionate and self-absorbed.

Kids.

They were all out-and-out, absolute _kids._

All except one, of course.

The dynamics of EXO-K was so different from M’s. With M, everyone was usually off quietly doing their own thing. K was like this bubbling cauldron of restless energy, constantly needing stoking lest it boils over.

Minseok watched as the younger members clung to Junmyeon, sometimes to whine but most times just for the sake of having his attention. They were all fickle in that they would all tease and jeer at the leader one moment, and then shower him with affection the next. It must have been so stressful, and now with M added to the mix Minseok can only imagine how exhausted Junmyeon must be.

It never shows, however, not even during their “family meetings” that Junmyeon arranges. Complaints are heard, compliments shared. It’s supposed to be the time when everyone gets to vent their feelings or frustrations, but somehow even then Junmyeon was a listener. He would nag at times, along with Kyungsoo and Jongdae. But that was it.

Still, it was kind of amazing that Junmyeon could make them all sit together like that and actually _talk_. The cool “city boy” Yifan (who has to be called Kris at all times now except at their dorms) talked about being homesick and even came close to crying once. Even the mostly silent Jongin speaks up.

Minseok doesn’t talk much there, however. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he really did not have anything much to say. Life was tiring, training was tiring, promotions were tiring, concerts were tiring… but that was all a given wasn’t it? It was probably odd, but he thought the tiredness was fulfilling. Because if he was tired it meant he was doing _something_.

“Minseok-ah, what about you?” Junmyeon asks him anyway, like always.

“Nah, I’m doing great.”

“Hyung, you’ll be half-fifty in a year, you can’t be doing great!” Baekhyun interjects.

“Aigoo, soon our _harabeoji_ will be needing a walker,” Jongdae beside him adds, massaging Minseok’s legs in fake concern.

Minseok laughs despite himself. “You brats. We’re only three years apart in age!”

Everyone joins in the teasing, and Luhan takes Minseok’s side, yelling arguments like an excited middle schooler. It turns into a tickling brawl somehow, and Minseok is trapped between the bodies, facing someone’s socked foot. From the gaudy print, it’s definitely Zitao’s. Minseok yanks his arms from the pile of bodies and proceeds to attack the offending foot, receiving Zitao’s high-pitched laugh as a reward.

Minseok looks up to see that Yifan and Junmyeon have not joined in. They’re both laughing affectionately at the mess, and it’s one of those occasional times that Minseok wishes he were closer with Junmyeon. He wonders what it was like, to have him leaning on you as he laughs animatedly like he was doing with Yifan now. It makes Minseok curious, makes him yearn just a little.

Maybe someday.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“If you can go back in time, which age do you want to return to?”

Minseok cannot, for the life of him, remember the name of the MC. Right now, he was just thankful that the question was not directed to him. Junmyeon, however, was the leader for a reason. He was the best at answering questions on the spot (or so Minseok thought).

“If it were me,” Junmyeon answers, unfazed. “I would return to being a one-year-old. Because my parents would give me what I want if I cry.”

His answer is too soft, too cute. It makes Minseok’s chest warm with affection for the leader, and he grins appreciatively as the translator tells them what the MCs said in reaction.

Junmyeon has taken to calling the younger members of EXO as “the kids”, and it was accurate. But the affection in his voice whenever he said that was not lost on Minseok, and he senses the implied _my kids_ everytime. It does make Minseok wonder, if anyone else saw Junmyeon as a kid himself. MInseok thought that the leader was like a child. There was this… _pureness_ in him somehow, this unpretentiousness at being excited about simple things.

Minseok wishes there were more times like these: times when everyone could see more of the playful but innocent Junmyeon, and not get fed with the endless scripts he had to memorize for the group.

Before Minseok knows it, they’re playing another game. He smiles and shakes his head. At least with all twelve of them, the stage is much more crowded. And that meant he was less likely to be the center of attention. He grins and takes a figurative step back. Some days were hard, but days like these also exist: days where he can bathe himself in the warmth of his friends onstage. And days like these made it all worth it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Minseok wakes up.

He groans and reaches for his phone. He squints at the light, and it shows the time to be 12:48am. It’s early, too early. He grunts in annoyance and puts the phone back down on the bedside table, and then rolls over to go back to sleep.

He tosses and turns in bed for some time before he gets up, grumbling in frustration. He’s wide awake now, and he won’t be sleeping again anytime soon. He throws the covers off himself and slides out of bed, intent on getting himself a glass of water. He shuffles towards the door quietly, carefully avoiding bumping into Kris’s bed before he stops in his tracks.

Oh.

Right. 

Kris wasn’t here anymore.

Minseok sighs. It’s been more than a month now, and he still couldn’t get used to it.

It hurt. It still hurts. And with the cryptic words that Luhan gave them from time to time, Minseok knew that it will hurt even more soon. There is something that is badly in need of fixing in their group, but those thoughts are too heavy right now, too suffocating. He pushes them into the far recesses of his mind, to be addressed when he is thinking clearer and breathing better.

Speaking of Luhan, his bed was empty. Curious, Minseok checks the floor just in case Luhan had fallen out of bed again. The floor is empty. Perhaps he’d gone to the bathroom?

Minseok shrugs and silently opens their bedroom door to step out. He pads his way to the kitchen, absently noting that more lights are on than usual. He is a few steps away from the dining room when he hears the voices.

“I think I know what you’re going to say, hyung.”

It’s Junmyeon’s voice. It’s a little hoarse, the weariness unmasked.

“I know you haven’t been happy for a while now,” Junmyeon continues, sighing.

“You’ll understand, then?” comes Luhan’s hesitant voice. “You won’t hate me for it?”

“How can I hate you, hyung. You know I can’t hate you for this. You’re doing this for yourself, and I get that.”

“I’m really sorry, Junmyeon-ah.” Luhan’s voice cracks at the end, a sure sign of him crying. “I didn’t want to do this, I didn’t want to drop it on your plate so soon after Kris. It’s just—it’s too unfair and I can’t take it anymore.”

This was it.

What Minseok had been dreading. What he had been avoiding. This was it.

He’d known, of course. He’d known about it for a while now. Luhan was his friend, how would he not notice? The bags that never seemed to disappear from under his eyes, the groans of pain every night when he tried to sleep, the increasingly flat smiles that he gave everybody, the suffocating air of exhaustion and discontent that constantly blanketed his person… Minseok would have to have been blind to not see it.

He was actually surprised that Luhan had lasted this long, even longer than Kris did. He’d seen firsthand how much they were suffering, how frustrated they were at being treated like slaves and hardly getting compensated for it.

But everyone had their own breaking point. And apparently, this was it for Luhan.

Minseok knew it. He got it.

But _god._

It still hurt.

Minseok stays where he is, just listening to his two bandmates discussing Luhan’s departure, and how they were going to tell everyone. A lone tear escapes MInseok’s eye, but he makes no move to wipe it. His hands feel like lead at his sides, his chest feels too small and he can’t seem to get enough air. It’s like his heart is twisting into a knot with every beat. But he can’t bring himself to move, can’t bring himself leave. He has to stay. He has to stand there and take it now, because it’s not one of those things that disappear when morning comes. He can’t avoid it this time, can’t push it down for another day.

Luhan was leaving.

No, Luhan was gone. He’s been gone for a while now. The Luhan who was genuinely happy about being in EXO had slowly died, and Minseok had not been able to do anything about it.

So Minseok should stand there and take it, because he’d failed. Luhan was his friend and he’d failed him, could not help him, could not protect him.

A chair is dragged, snapping Minseok back into his senses. He rushes as silently as he could back to their bedroom, diving into his bed before throwing the covers over himself. Luhan comes in moments later, still sniffling. Minseok lies still and fights to even out his breathing, so as not to alert his roommate that he was awake.

A weight settles on Minseok’s bed.

“Minseok, you awake?” Luhan asks in a soft voice.

Minseok does not answer.

The weight shifts, and Minseok registers a body lying down next to him, hugging him from behind.

“You don’t have to talk,” Luhan says. “I’ll just sleep next to you like this, yeah? Is that all right, Minnie? Will you let me?”

 _This one last time?_ He doesn’t say it, but Minseok hears it anyway.

Minseok still does not answer, but he moves his hands. Gently, he lays them on the arms that were holding him.

 _Yes,_ he answers with a reassuring squeeze. He had never been good with words, anyway.

_This one last time._

 

When Minseok wakes, the room is bright and he is alone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next days are a blur.

So many things are happening all at once, so many emotions burn through all of them in too short a span of time, too much to process and yet more and more come their way. Everything gets blurred, bleeds into each other and builds up like a snowball, settling heavily in everyone’s chest. Whenever Minseok looked at his bandmates, he sees the exact same weary look on their faces as the one he sees in the mirror. The sadness, the anger, the longing, the frustration…they need to address it but there are songs to sing, commercials to shoot, concert performances to perfect.

Minseok is almost thankful for the busy schedule. It was a good distraction, it kept them busy, kept them moving. But the despondent look of the fans whenever he saw them… he wished he could do something for them, but he couldn’t think of anything. It’s not like he could bring Kris and Luhan back.

The dorms are mostly quiet. There is a sharpness in the air, however. Whether it was the hurt or the anger or both, Minseok didn’t really know.

He would hear some of the kids crying from time to time. Others like Chanyeol and Zitao have turned hostile from the hurt. Kyungsoo has stepped up, silently volunteering to take care of everyone by wordlessly preparing meals. Jongdae also tries to help, giving more hugs to everyone than usual. And Junmyeon… Minseok has not seen Junmyeon much lately.

Junmyeon has been in and out of the dorm for the last few days now. He was always in a meeting: if not with the executives, with the managers. His phone rang constantly as well, for group schedules and last minute reminders and god knew what else.

Last week’s family meeting was canceled by Junmyeon. “I think we all need time to ourselves for a bit,” he’d said. “We’re all a little too emotional right now so we might end up saying things we don’t mean. Let’s all process this first, ok? Give ourselves sometime and just go through it for now. Next week, we’ll talk. I promise. But if any of you need me, I’ll be here okay?”

Minseok had been glad about it, and with the nods that everyone gave he knew he was not the only one.

Junmyeon keeps the second part of his promise, and spends much more time with the other members. Times he could have spent in leisure or just resting was instead spent accompanying Sehun to some store, or exercising with Baekhyun, or helping prepare food with Kyungsoo. Even Chanyeol would seek the leader out these days, asking him to listen to some songs he’d written.

Sleeping, too, meant work for Junmyeon. There was hardly a night when Minseok did not hear Zitao whine for the leader to stay with him until he fell asleep.

Minseok’s forehead creases with worry as he watched from the sidelines. Junmyeon was everywhere, spreading himself over everyone like a blanket. It does not sit well with Minseok, the way he tried to do everything by himself, tried to exert twice as much more effort in everything he did, as if he was trying to make up for the two gaping holes left behind.

Minseok wants to help him, he feels this itch in his fingertips all the time—an itch to touch Junmyeon, to hug him and tell him he was there, that Minseok was there for him if he needed him. But for the life of him, he did not know how.

So instead he tries to lighten the load. He always answers with a quick shake of his head and a smile whenever Junmyeon asked if he needed anything. Minseok had never been the type to cry with someone, anyway. His tears were reserved for when he was in the shower, for when he was alone at night with his pillow, in a room that used to be for three. He also does his best to help his dongsaengs, tries to be the reassuring presence when Junmyeon was not available.

It’s not enough. He knows it’s not enough.

People always thought of Junmyeon’s zealousness as something overflowing, something endless. Perhaps it once was. But now instead of the readiness to take on more, there was only exhaustion, quiet and subdued. His skin has taken on a sickly pallor, and his clothes don’t fit him right anymore. They drape over his frame like clothes on a line, becoming too large for a body that was progressively losing weight.

Minseok’s inadequacy hits him one morning, when he wakes up earlier than usual.

He goes straight for the kitchen, intending to get breakfast started as Kyungsoo might still be too tired from his drama shoot to cook breakfast today.

The sight of Junmyeon’s crumpled form by the sink almost makes him scream.

The leader is sitting with his back against the cupboards, his legs drawn up to his chest, arms unmoving at his sides. He is staring ahead with a blank look at his face.

“Junmyeon-ah, what are you doing sitting on the floor?” Minseok asks, barely containing the alarm in his voice.

Junmyeon’s eyes move lazily to stare up at him. “Minseok.” His voice is barely a whisper. “I can’t stand, he says simply.

 

Minseok all but runs to the leader’s side. “What happened? Did you hurt yourself?” He hurriedly checks Junmyeon’s face, his arms, scanning his body for some kind of injury.

Junmyeon shakes his head. “My legs feel too weak and I get so dizzy when I try to move. Can you—can you help me please?” His lips tremble at the end, and his eyes gleaming with a telltale shine. He valiantly tries to blink the tears away, but they flow nonetheless.

Most days Minseok had to look hard for the kinks in the armor, but these days—today… Junmyeon looked so scared, so vulnerable. How long had he been on the floor, waiting for someone to wake up and find him?

“Why didn’t you shout for help,” Minseok grits his teeth as he puts his arms around the younger’s much smaller frame and pulls them both to their feet. “You’re so cold, you’re going to get sick like this!”

 “I’m sorry,” Junmyeon murmurs, his voice breaking at the end. “I didn’t want to bother anybody.”

Minseok half carries, half pulls Junmyeon into the leader’s bedroom, as it was much closer. Honestly, the younger felt so light he debated with himself whether he should just carry him or not. He had a feeling that Junmyeon would not take too kindly to being carried, however, so he abandons the thought.

He gently lays the leader on the bed, before hastily covering his shivering form with the wrinkly blanket at the side of the bed. It looks too thin for Minseok’s comfort, so he grabs another and drapes it over Junmyeon as well.

“I’m sorry,” Junmyeon repeats, and there is the unmistakable sound of sniffling from underneath the covers. “I’m just tired. I’m so, so tired.”

Minseok was not a stranger to crying. Neither was other people crying foreign to him. He’s seen the others cry, even lent them his shoulder from time to time. But if it’s Junmyeon, now that it’s Junmyeon… it’s different. It feels heavier, the usual burn in his chest much sharper. He doesn’t like it.

_“If you can go back in time, which age do you want to return to?”_

 

Minseok randomly remembers that question, from that time. It was barely a year ago, but it seemed like so much time has passed since then. But if he were asked that question now, he would be sure of his answer.

He would go back to when he was 18. And he would meet Junmyeon again for the first time. But this time, he won’t let Junmyeon take the lead. This time he would make sure to introduce himself as the hyung. This time he would tell him, he would tell him that it was fine, that he could depend on Minseok. That he could be the _dongsaeng_ , the one taken care of. That he wouldn’t need to cry for people to give him what he wanted.

He berates himself for not doing anything for so long, for being complacent with the way things were.

He sits beside the leader, who was still trying to stifle his sobs. His shaking form conceals nothing, however. Minseok starts to run his hand over the younger’s back, his own tears staining the blanket under him.

“It’s all right, Junmyeon-ah,” he tells him. “It’s all right to be tired. I’ll take care of you now, hmm? I’m here.”

_Hyung is here._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon cries until he falls asleep. But really, it was the fatigue that finally knocked him out. None of this registers to him when he wakes up however. His eyes feel weird—it’s like someone had taken sandpaper and taped them to his face to replace his eyelids. This was strange. His eyes only feel like this when he—

He jerks upright, fully awake. He’d cried.

And infront of _Minseok_.

He starts having a hard time filling his lungs with air as the memory comes back fully. _Why did I do that_ , he thinks, mortified. _Oh god, I messed up._

“Junmyeon, you’re awake?”

Junmyeon’s head snaps towards the source of the voice. It’s the object of his shame, walking towards him, a glass of water in hand. “Are you still feeling dizzy?” Minseok asks.

Junmyeon can only stare at him, cheeks burning in embarrassment.

“What’s wrong?” the older prods, setting down the glass on the bedside table.

“N-nothing,” Junmyeon stammers. He looks down at his lap and grips the edge of his blankets. “I just—I’m sorry. For breaking down like that.”

He hears Minseok sigh. “I should be the one saying sorry to you.”

Confused, Junmyeon peeks at Minseok. But his bandmate is not looking at him. He watches as the older takes a few steps and sits on the foot of Junmyeon’s bed.

“What do you mean,” Junmyeon asks. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You mean I didn’t do _anything_.” Minseok sighs again. “Have you looked at yourself these days, Junmyeon-ah?”

“I… I guess?”

“No, you haven’t. If you had, then you would know how horrible you’ve been looking for the past weeks.”

Junmyeon should feel offended, but he is mostly surprised. It was not in Minseok’s nature to insult people. He was one of the gentlest, kindest people that Junmyeon knew, the type that always thought before they said anything. So maybe…it wasn’t an insult?

“Just look at your arms, _look_ at them, Junmyeon-ah.”

Junmyeon obeys, inspecting his arms to see any defect. He couldn’t find any.

“They’re like sticks. You’re losing weight like crazy,” Minseok lets out. “I’m worried about you.”

He was? Junmyeon spares another glance at his arms, but he still wasn’t sure what Minseok was talking about. Still, this was Minseok. The usually quiet, soft Minseok was clearly agitated about this. Therefore, Junmyeon concluded with his practical thinking, he must be telling the truth.

“I… I honestly did not notice that,” he confesses. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry,” Minseok says wearily.

“But I—“

“Just, listen to me first, okay?” At Junmyeon’s uncertain nod, Minseok continues. “I know you’re the leader and that comes with a lot of responsibilities. The kids look up to you and tend to rely on you. They’re not wrong in seeking your help, and you’re not wrong for giving it to them. But at the way you’re working yourself to the ground like this, you’re going to break, you know?”

“That’s not going to happen. I won’t break,” Junmyeon disagrees. “I’m strong, Minseok.” _I have to be._

“I’m not saying you’re not strong,” the older says exasperatedly. “You’re the strongest person I know, Junmyeon-ah. But even the toughest people need rest, need help. What I’m saying is that—“ The older stands up and plops himself on the side of Junmyeon’s bed, much nearer to Junmyeon but still keeping a small distance between them.

“What I’m saying is that, I’m your _hyung_ , you know?” The line holds such weight, Junmyeon almost feels Minseok saying it while looking straight into his eyes. The older just stares at his own lap, however.

“I know I’m not the most reliable person around,” he continues. “And I’m not as capable as you. I can’t lead the kids like you, and I’m not as good with words as you are, but… I can be with you, you know? When you’re having a hard time, you can tell me. I won’t be that much help, but I can listen to you. I’ll be your hyung, the way you’re everyone else’s hyung.”

It must be Junmyeon’s still sleep-addled mind, taking away his usual clarity. He hastily wipes away the tear that sneaks out of his eye. He’s always been less guarded when he just came from sleep, and the added exhaustion does him no favors. He can’t think of a better reason as to why his tears won’t stop, why his eyes were betraying him like this, why he was so affected by Minseok’s words.

If it were someone else, they would have tried to hug Junmyeon, would have held him while he cried, would have done their best to make him stop crying. But all Minseok does is lay a hand on one of his knees, and offers a reassuring squeeze. He just lets him cry. And somehow that was more comforting than a hug, more soothing than a rub on the back. They have not been the type to hug each other much, anyway. He does not find the thought of Minseok hugging him undesirable, of course. It was just not right for them at the moment. Not yet.

He calms down after a while, and the self-consciousness sets in. He sneaks a look at Minseok.

The older is just sitting there, hand still on Junmyeon’s knee. His other hand is on his lap, fiddling with his sweatpants and squirming like a child. He looked so uncomfortable, his face a gleaming red from the uneasiness that it makes Junmyeon chuckle despite his tears.

“What is this,” he gasps between his sniffles-turned-giggles. “You are so awkward Minseok, this is embarrassing.”

“Don’t laugh at me,” Minseok whines. “It’s already hard enough. I don’t need you making fun of me, too, you brat.”

But it makes Junmyeon laugh harder. The absurdity of it, and Minseok calling him a _brat_ like he was one of the kids—it makes this feeling of sheer relief flood him inside, spreading to his toes and fingertips and making him feel like he was on a high. Minseok joins him, and the sound of his laugh is magic.

“Thank you,” Junmyeon murmurs sincerely after they both calm down, all humor gone. “What you said means a lot. Stop putting yourself down, though. And stop talking as if the kids don’t rely on you either. I know you’ve been doing a lot for all of us. I really appreciate that.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Minseok mumbles, touching the back of his neck.

“What you said,” Junmyeon continues. “I heard it loud and clear. It’s just, it’s hard to pay attention to myself these days. With Kris gone, suddenly I’m in charge of all of you and there’s so much more work to do. And the kids, they need the constant reassurance. I try my best, and honestly most days I don’t feel like I’m doing a good enough job.”

That immediately catches Minseok’s attention. _Junmyeon?_ Not doing a good enough job? It was so absurd he almost felt offended by it. “I wish you didn’t think that way,” he says. “You’re doing so well for us, you’re doing a great job.” He probably senses the leader was unaccepting of the compliment and adds, “I mean it. I honestly think that you keep us all together.”

“That’s a bit much, don’t you think?” Junmyeon denies, trying to laugh it off, but a glare from the older halts him.

“I mean it,” Minseok insists.

Between the older’s adamance and the unease of the situation, Junmyeon feels his stomach give a nervous flutter. He does not know how to react, he could not even mumble out a few words to stall as he would do with difficult questions in interviews. He feels himself growing more and more flustered, but he is too confused to say anything. The conversation lulls.

“Just stop listening to yourself, okay?” Minseok says, breaking the silence. “Listen to me. This hyung is smarter than you and hence knows better.”

The change in the older’s tone makes Junmyeon glance up, only to see Minseok sporting a smirk. There has always been a mischievous streak in Minseok, a part of him that randomly appeared to play a prank on a bandmate, or to laugh at Junmyeon’s puns. It catches him off guard as usual, but it works its magic and the tension instantly lifts.

“In conclusion, you have to call me hyung from now on.”

Junmyeon snorts. “Look I’m sorry, but I’m too used to calling you ‘Minseok’ now. I can’t promise anything. But—“ he raises a hand to pacify the older, who looked so affronted it was almost comical. “But. When I need a hyung, I will. I will go to you.”

It’s not a big change, but it’s a change, nonetheless.

Minseok stands up, and Junmyeon takes note of the older’s ears. They were flaring red, along with his cheeks and his neck. He and Minseok had never been the type to talk about _feelings_ with each other, but Junmyeon has always found it easy to adjust to new things, to new situations. Minseok, clearly, was horrible at this. And he was exerting himself as the hyung? Junmyeon chuckles softly to himself. That was cute.

But mostly really brave.

“You’re not allowed to get out of bed today,” Minseok informs him. “I already called Yongmin-hyung and told him you’re sick, so don’t worry. I’m going to get your lunch, and you’ll eat in in bed. And then you’re going to sleep. Got it?”

Junmyeon can only smile. “Yes, hyung.”

Minseok does not miss the playful teasing in the younger’s voice, but more than that the honorific sends a tingle of delight through his chest. He tries to act nonchalant about it, quickly spinning around and walking out of the room with only a hum in acknowledgement. But who was he kidding? He was grinning like an idiot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Things go on as usual, but something shifts between Minseok and Junmyeon.

When Junmyeon announces that their regular family meetings were going to resume, the younger members pretended to groan in complaint. But they were all secretly thankful, Minseok knew. And if they noticed Junmyeon turning to Minseok more for his opinions, with Minseok _actually_ talking, they don’t breathe a word about it.

So many things need mending, but with time and each other, they heal little by little. The shared pain brings them closer together, makes them more understanding, more willing to communicate. And if Minseok was asked if there was one thing he was thankful about the whole mess, it would be that it made the bonds of the remaining members stronger than ever.

But problems never really stop. And when Junmyeon comes to him one afternoon with a despondent look on his face, Minseok does not hesitate to put down the book he was reading.

“Hyung,” Junmyeon says simply.

That instantly brings Minseok to his feet, their own code word for _help me_ spurring him into action. He wordlessly guides the leader to the couch, situating himself beside him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“It’s Taozi,” Junmyeon chokes out, tears spilling from his eyes. “He said goodbye to me, hyung. He said he was sorry but he won’t be coming back.”

The leader  buries his face in his hands as his shoulders shake softly with sobs.

The news is devastating, but as with Luhan it does not shock Minseok. And right now, with Junmyeon crying infront of him, he could only think of one thing.

One of his hands reaches out hesitantly, as if testing the waters, before he takes Junmyeon in his arms.

It should feel strange. Hugging has always been a part of their lives, being in a boy group and now as close friends. But this was different from the fanservice, from the random bouts of affection that called for an embrace, from the customary hug after not seeing each other in a while.

But to Minseok, it only feels natural. Inevitable, like the progression of seasons.

The future looks bleak once again, but it doesn’t feel as hopeless as it did a year ago. They were all stronger now.

“We’ll be all right, Junmyeon-ah.”

It’s both a wish and a promise. He sends out a separate wish to the universe to take care of his dongsaeng in China, as he tightens his hold on the one in his arms.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bonus

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There’s still a hint of giddiness in the air, some leftover rush from the awards show they’d just attended. Minseok is drunk both on the soju and the high that came from performing infront of such a large audience. And the cheers, the never-ending cheers that should have been deafening but were like music to his ears…He’s been doing this for four years now, he should be used to it. But the thrill, the exhilaration of performing onstage never got old.

Junmyeon is beside him on the couch, leaning on his shoulder as they mindlessly watch the movie playing on the tv. Jongin was on the floor, already snoring softly. Minseok should have probably stopped him from drinking those last three shots, but no one says no to a pouting Jongin.

“Hyung,” Junmyeon mumbles, his voice slightly slurring. Him calling Minseok hyung with anyone else around (even if they were sleeping) was a sure sign that he was drunk. “Do you—should we sleep now?”

Minseok was not drunk yet, quite far from it, actually. But not everyone had his tolerance. Besides, both of his drinking buddies were down now, and where was the fun in drinking alone?

“Are you sleepy, Junmyeon-ah?” he asks.

The younger mumbles something incoherent, slipping his arms around Minseok and snuggling into him further. Drunk Junmyeon also meant Clingy Junmyeon. He feels so warm, almost too warm at his side, but Minseok cannot bring himself to complain. Instead, he ruffles Junmyeon’s hair with his free hand, smiling when the younger pouts at the disturbance.

“Let’s get up then, Junmyeonnie,” he says. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

He detaches Junmyeon from his arm, much to Junmyeon’s dismay. He was quite vocal about it too, whining in confusion as he is pulled to his feet.

Minseok pulls one of Junmyeon’s arms around his neck. He puts an arm around the younger’s waist and pulls him into a secure hold. They do not make it far from the couch before Minseok deems Junmyeon too unsteady on his feet to continue. Minseok could carry him on his back, probably. But Junmyeon’s hotel room was a floor down, and Minseok recoils at the thought of the arduous trek. He makes a quick decision.

“Junmyeon-ah, Junmyeonnie are you still awake?” he asks.

The leader’s head only lolls in acknowledgement.

“You’re too drunk, I don’t think we can make it to your room,” Minseok tries to inform him. He bends to peer at the sloshed Junmyeon’s face, but the younger’s eyes are closed. Minseok suspects that he was already in dream land, if not well on his way to it. “Let’s just both sleep here, okay? I’m sure the bed is big enough.”

“Mmkay,” Junmyeon murmurs, but Minseoks doubts if he really understood.

He gives himself a silent encouragement as he drags them both to his hotel bedroom, thanking his stars for his natural strength as he lugs the dead weight at his side. If it weren’t for the stamina he’d built up over the years, his knees would have buckled already.

With a grunt, he half throws, half lays Junmyeon on the bed. The younger had held onto him like an octopus, however, and Minseok falls into the bed with him with an astonished _oof_.  He detaches himself from him, and the leader automatically curls up into his usual fetal position.

The sight of Junmyeon sleeping always made Minseok smile. Arms and knees folded towards his chest, looking so much tinier (Junmyeon was already small, that should not have been possible). He was the literal interpretation of _sleeping like a baby_.

Minseok pulls the blanket from underneath the sleeping leader, and covers him with it. He takes an extra blanket and a pillow before jogging back to the living room, kneeling next to the knocked out Jongin. He carefully lifts the boy’s head and lays it on the pillow, and then wraps him in the blanket. He feels slightly guilty about letting Jongin sleep on the floor, but the couch is too small for him and his room was on the same floor as Junmyeon’s.

Satisfied, Minseok makes his way back to his bedroom. He is already settling himself beside Junmyeon, covering himself with the duvet when it hits him.

This was the first time that he and Junmyeon were sharing a bed and sleeping together.

Wait, was it really?

He racks his brain, years and years of pre-debut period and four years of being in the same group, but it only confirms his initial realization. It wasn’t that strange. Even if he and Junmyeon had grown a lot closer in the last couple of years, sleeping on the same bed was just something that was unlikely. For one, they were never roommates. For another, Junmyeon and Sehun’s messy living arrangement was a natural repellant for the neat Minseok.

Junmyeon always relented when anyone asked him to sleep together with them, but he was never the one to ask. Minseok was a terrible initiator as well, and he preferred sleeping alone, anyway.

Still, he found it remarkable that they have never before strayed together into bed like this.

Junmyeon seems to detect Minseok’s presence, and he uncurls, arms stretching out in search. His fingers pat on Minseok’s stomach. Having found the warmth his body was seeking, he pushes himself forward and wraps himself around the older.

Minseok only watches in amusement, half expecting Junmyeon to recoil from him once he realizes how needy he was acting. But the leader is probably too drunk, too far gone for his usual inhibitions to kick in.

He thinks back to that time, when he had finally reached out to Junmyeon. They were both so awkward back then (mostly Minseok, really). They’ve come so far now, being able to be in each other’s space like this.

“You’re so warm, Minseok,” Junmyeon mumbles, snuggling deeper into Minseok’s chest.

The older smiles in satisfaction. It was a definite compliment, given how Junmyeon hated the cold.

“Uminnie, Minseok,” Junmyeon continues slurring. “My BFF.”

That affects Minseok more than it should. His chest floods with pure, unbridled affection for the tiny leader. But Junmyeon did not need to know that. “What, no more hyung?” he teases instead.

“Minseok- _hyuuung_ ,” Junmyeon relents.

“Brat. Did you just roll your eyes at me? Your eyes are closed but I can feel you mocking me.”

The leader’s giggles tickle his chest, and Minseok can’t help but feel sentimental. There was something special about this, this moment, and he should say something, do something. He tries to find the right words, and he glances down at Junmyeon.

The younger had already fallen asleep, snoring softly on Minseok’s chest. Smiling in defeat, Minseok shakes his head and wraps his arm around Junmyeon, pulling him even closer. He thinks there might be other places better than this. But right now, he could think of none. For now, there was nowhere more wonderful than being here, sleeping next to his favorite person, his warmth and his soft breathing lulling Minseok to sleep.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy these fics as much as I enjoyed writing them :) 
> 
> Feel free to leave comments and tell me what you think ^^
> 
> come chat with me on Twitter, I'm @suhosfabtwin
> 
>  
> 
> 14/01/2019:  
> Thank you for the kudos and comments!  
> It may seem small to you but they mean a lot  
> Saranghaja five-ever TT^TT
> 
>  
> 
> 13/02/2019  
> 100 kudos omg you guys are so sweet ㅠㅠ  
> thank you~
> 
>  
> 
> 22/02/2019  
> Hello! Just dropping by to tell you guys that midterms is next week so I won't be able to post anything this week T_T I'll try to update around March 1 or so. Ugh I wish I had more free time to write. Anyways, you guys have a nice day now <3
> 
>  
> 
> 07/03/2019  
> I'm so sorry. I really am. I know I said I'd update on March 1 but it's already March 7 and I STILL don't have anything finished. I don't know what's wrong with me. I have ideas for plots and I just KNOW I can write them if I wanted to, but somehow I'm just... Not. It's not a writer's block. At least, I don't think so. Maybe it's just my mood? I don't know. But it really sucks and I'm so frustrated. Anyways, I'm sorry again. I'll update as soon as I get out of this funk. See you guys ~
> 
> 31/03/2019  
> HIIII! just dropping by to say I'm doing better :) I've also gotten started on the next fic, which is definitely SuChen :D I'm at 3k words right now, but I think it will be around 7k or more in all. I'm making it pretty long and putting more effort into it to make up for not writing the last month. I'm surprised that this work is still gaining hits and kudos even if I'm not updating. Thank you for reading my work <3
> 
> ALSO, OUR BABY JONGDAE IS DROPPING HIS MV TONIGHT Y'ALL LET'S PARTEHHH


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